Everlong
by Taylor-V
Summary: Half-human, half-Mari, Dorthea ran under the name Eliza DeVult; her sister. Now, the only way to save Eliza from the experimenting Tarkans is to get by on the Enterprise without anyone finding out, and he's making it so damn hard.
1. Escape

**Chapter 1 – Escape**

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The thrumming of her heart against her chest burnt a hole into her sternum as it pushed adrenaline faster and faster through her bloodstream. Dorthea's legs seemed to swell with every panicked lunge she took, the hormone urging her to keep going, don't give up. Though her head swam from lack of oxygen, Dorthea kept moving. There was no possible way that she could let the Tarkan at her tail get his grubby hands on her again. The large splashes of blue and purple that blossomed over her skin served as her motivation. That, and the fact that if she convinced her captors that she escaped, her sister would be safe to flee from this unknown planet.

Because currently, she ran under the name Eliza DeVult. Because currently, she _was_ her sister. And if Eliza was running from them at that moment, Eliza could not be boarding a rescue ship, so why would they need to search for her elsewhere? Dorthea's own rescue waited for her only a mile away, if she could just reach it. When the concept of 5,280 feet wrapped itself around her brain, Dorthea's lungs caught fire. Her hundred-and-forty pounds of weight suddenly felt like tons, and her legs must've been filled with sand. She trembled but forced herself to run harder: the Tarkan's hand grabbed at the maroon locks of hair that billowed behind her as she ran. His nails clawed the skin of her back, leaving angry red trails between her shoulder blades.

The mile was long and short at the same time. Adrenaline sped up her perception of time, but the exhausted throbbing that pulsed persistently through the core of her being made the distance never-ending. When the docking yard welled in front of her, it came with an exhilarating jolt of shock that forced her to move with faster, longer strides. Unfortunately, the Tarkan didn't seem to be running out of breath sometime soon, unlike Dorthea, whose extremely helpful cocktail of adrenaline, fear, and surprise had died once laying eye upon the gigantic spacecrafts.

Security personnel stood guard at every entrance, so to avoid ambush Dorthea had to either clamber over the fence or burrow underneath. Neither seemed very likely. She stumbled forward, parallel to the chain link fence, to find a weak spot. There was no doubt in her mind that the fences would be booby-trapped; electrically charged or otherwise. Dorthea knew running wouldn't be much of an option soon and her eyes frantically scanned each and every inch of the fence, willing a hole into their impeccable defense systems. Luckily, for her pursuer fast gained on her heels, a glitch in the system jumped out and bit her. A gift from the gods. Dorthea made a mental note to pray more often and seized the opportunity gratefully.

A stretch of fence, bent down and misshaped out of weather or collision, Dorthea couldn't tell. Nor did she care. Her feet prepared to launch her body over the twisted metal, charging faster and faster to build power. The Tarkan sped with her, like he heard her thoughts. It occurred to her that he probably knew what she was intending to do. Ignoring this thought, she focused instead on the dangers a mere two seconds into her future. An invisible barrier accompanying the fence; an electric current if she so much as tipped the metal. But, there was also a way out. If she continued to run, there would be no doubt that she would be captured. Her knees bent, her calves and thighs tensed. The Tarkan let out a snarl of fury as she propelled her body over the disfigurement.

The surface and she did not connect smoothly. Dry, dusty ground peeled the skin from the heels of her palm, exposing the sweet-smelling silvery blue blood that pulsated under a thin film of torn chalky skin. The scrapes, she could deal with. But the impact had forced a sickening crack from the bones in her wrist and she gasped aloud. While the nerves in her wrist sent fiery charges up to her brain, the actual area wouldn't move no matter how hard she tried. Tears rolled down her cheeks, over her mouth and neck, tainting her lip with the tang of salt. However, there were more important things at hand, like the veil-like force that rippled around her body the instant she crossed over, and the ringing siren that now wailed over the entire area, warning of an intruder.

Guards barreled toward her, as if from thin air. Dorthea jumped to her feet and, cradling her broken wrist to her chest, managed to dash out of their reach. Her lopsided gait (lopsided because she couldn't pump her arm when she ran) carried her much too slowly, it felt like the more she moved the farther away the maze of ships got. As if she were moving so slow she went backward. This wouldn't do. Dorthea fixed her gaze on a spot some ten yards away, blinking away the tears that blurred her vision, and checked her predators' thoughts one more time before exerting her remaining strength.

They weren't worried, they were certain they would catch her. This worried her little, as her main concerns wrapped around their perceptions. She exhaled in a small, quick sigh and gave her last, determined effort. They still believed she was Eliza, and that's all that mattered. If Dorthea didn't make it out, at least her baby sister would. Otherwise the weeks of torture and planning she'd endured would all count for nothing. But she figured they were in the clear. It had been an hour since Eliza had left to meet her rescue, an hour since Dorthea weaseled her way from the cell. An hour of hiding and running. The first step she took onto the platform couldn't have been sweeter if it was coated in chocolate.

Heavy footfalls still thumped behind her, and she knew it wasn't over yet. She couldn't be certain, however, that her own escape was here. She could only hope. Dorthea turned into a small aisle and threw herself under one of the massive machines, despite the painful protests from her wrist. She cringed inwardly, twisting her face into a gruesome scowl, but held her breath as the footsteps thundered past her hiding place. They spoke in a language that she didn't understand, but she could hear in their thoughts well enough. The intentions, anyway. She was to be captured alive and taken back to the cell. They didn't want to kill Eliza, just experiment. Just a couple tests. Crossbreeds fascinated them. Dorthea didn't want either of them to be experimented on; she'd rather be killed. Still… the highway option was the best.

When she was certain that none remained, she crawled out from her hiding spot and checked the ship's name. _USS Enterprise_. Not her ship. A Mari ship wouldn't be in Earth language. Dorthea's eyes glazed over the surrounding fleet and stopped on a clock high up under the steel canopy. Her heart nearly stopped, her breath catching in her throat like it suddenly turned to a ball of cotton. Her estimations had been off by too much: ten minutes ago, her rescue had left. Took off without her.

Though tears built up in her eyes, Dorthea couldn't help but be angry with herself. She'd taken too long. They _should_ have left. Why put them in danger for so long? But she'd thought that Eliza would've put up enough fight to keep them in limbo until Dorthea arrived. But she wanted 'liza to leave as soon as possible, to get to safety before any harm could come to her. But _she_ wanted safety, _she_ wanted to go home. But—the sirens blared louder to a scream, putting the internal warfare on halt. Rather, survival instincts bubbled up in her stomach, brewing hotter and hotter into her chest, morphing into a mad haze to live. The ache in her wrist seemed to disappear.

The ramp up to this _USS Enterprise_ was raising rapidly, a few last minute stragglers hurrying on. A split second decision had Dorthea scrambling in desperation, clinging to the door with incredible strength from her one good hand. She kicked with her legs, exhausting her strength for good. Fortunately she made it, rolling onto the metal. It yanked on her wrist and grated the bone fragments against each other until she winced and inhaled to prevent the moan threatening to spill over her lips. The steel clanged under her clothes as she rolled with the incline. Dorthea bit her cheeks to keep from crying out when she landed with all her weight pressed onto her wrist. Flipping instantly off that arm, she lay panting on the spotless floor with her chest heaving and muscles relaxing. A female voice echoed in her ears from an invisible intercom.

"And we're going into warp six in three… two…." The sudden shift into a speed faster than light showed no physical evidence.

Dorthea hefted herself into a sitting position with her bad arm tucked into her chest and her good one tight for support. She'd done it. She'd escaped. _She was safe_. And now, to figure out where she was going, what she was doing, and with whom. She would worry about the wrist later; when she wasn't running for her life it didn't weigh so heavily on her thoughts. She stood up and followed the lights, down the length of the hallway to begin her exploration.

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**A/N: yo! so, i just wanted to say welcome to my mind! lol. a full explanation will be in the next chapter, because i'm running out of battery on my laptop and i'm currently far far far away from home, so i'll just have to say READ AND REVIEW here and hope you read to find out more! thanks!**


	2. Lost, Found, and Fixed

**Chapter 2 – Lost, Found, and Fixed**

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The lights were blindingly bright, such like Dorthea had never seen before at her own home. Darkness had always been her safe spot and lately she'd been trapped in what felt like her worst fear. Everything was harsh and stung her pupils; she shied away from it and curled inward, hunching her shoulders to block out as much as possible. Her feet shuffled along the smooth white flooring as she wandered, glancing up occasionally. With these miniscule glances she took in every object in her environment. Her surroundings bewildered her. The Mari had scientists and technology, sure, but it's not like she understood any of it. The computers, consoles, and lights and buttons in general stunned her mind.

For the most part, her explorations went unnoticed. Occasionally someone would head her way, but she caught the direction of their thoughts and squished herself into a hiding place before they passed. From the sound of their language, they were from Earth. Dorthea hesitated; this planet's inhabitants had a reputation for violence. As hers banned all violent thoughts, she had no practice dealing with a bad situation. But she'd rather be on this Earth ship than with the Tarkan scientists.

Each time this happened, Dorthea would fall out of her place of invisibility and hurry forth, hoping for a branching hall that she would eagerly take. After an hour of roaming around the shuttlecraft, a mass of thoughts smacked her brain with a rush of relief and fear. Relief for civilization. Fear for unknown civilization. They packed her mind fit to burst, leaving little to no room for her own thoughts. Lost for a moment in the conversations, her mouth moved of its own accord.

"…conference with the Tarkans didn't have any results, except to make them more reluctant to join the Federation."

Luckily for Dorthea, the words came out as a whisper. The flow and direction of thoughts had drawn her blindly through the halls until her feet halted in front of a large and windowless steel door. She held her breath in her throat, trying to reassemble the scrambled sentences that weren't hers but slid easily through her head. There were eight sources, or groupings, that the words originated from. One was female, the rest male. Dorthea gently touched the tips of her fingers to her temples and rubbed in a smooth, circular motion. It helped with organization. Besides, the constant thrumming of mental voices formed a steady throb at the back of her head.

She'd had more practice tuning out the tone and structure of Mari thoughts; all of them had. Living on the planet with the same species for so long allowed her to build up a resistance—a wall, so to speak—against them. Out of privacy, partly, but mostly respect. It was considered rude to invade someone's mind if they didn't want you to, even if you absolutely had to, and even if you had the ability. Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. And before, she'd been concerned with her sister's safety. Dorthea had never been part of the rebellion. She enjoyed thinking pure thoughts and didn't have any desire to disrupt that peace.

A sudden _whish _of hydraulics. "_Hell_o? Who are _you?_"

Her first instinct fueled the fight-or-flight response that came with being half-human. Fighting would do nothing but get herself hurt, and was nearly banned from her motor functions anyway. But flight, now, that was something she could do. She almost fell over herself as she made to twist around and run, catching her left foot on the bottom of her right shoe and stumbling to the solid floor. Almost, because warm fingers gripped her wrists (both good and bad) and yanked her straight again. Struggling would do no good, as she'd learned all too well with the Tarkans. Instead of facing the human that locked her wrists in its hands, she slammed her eyelids shut, braced for impact. Dorthea winced against his hold as she waited, the aching in her wrist flaring up again, and turned her face so it wouldn't see her grimace.

"Hey." The human shifted her slightly so that it held her two wrists in his one palm and then touched his fingertips to her chin, forcing her to look at him. She took a quick check of his thoughts. They reflected his next words so perfectly that she had to squint open an eye and peek at his face.

"Are you okay?"

The hydraulics _whish_ed again from behind them and five more faces were abruptly staring straight at Dorthea. Well, now, that didn't make sense. Although there were six faces, there were eight of the groupings. Tossing this thought off to the side, she clenched her eyes shut again and shook her head, not in answer, but in defiance. Responding to these strangers peacefully, vulnerably, was out of the question.

"Open your eyes." The hand on her chin cupped her jaw and lifted it back up. "What's your name? Do you work here?"

Like before, the thoughts mirrored the sincerity that laced its tone. Biting her lip, she peered up at the human.

The human, a male, gazed down at her at a steep incline with baby blue eyes. It was an odd sensation, being so short. Or were humans just so tall? His skin was the color of sand, and rough like it too, with blonde hair just a little lighter, so obviously bleached by the sun. He held her hands in a vice-like grip at level with her neck, uncomfortably high so that she had to stare over her knuckles to meet his line of sight.

"Maybe she can't talk," the female suggested, hovering behind his left shoulder. Her skin was the color of coffee: a rich, warm brown that complimented her matching deep brown hair and eyes. She was significantly taller than the male that held Dorthea's wrists, so she just _must_'ve been that short. Languages unfamiliar to Dorthea flashed through the female's head as she sifted for ways to communicate.

"Do you not speak?" Another male, a chalky pale one at the first's right, spoke with uncanny clarity and precision. His mahogany eyes filled with honest curiosity and he tilted his head a little to the side, revealing pointy ears that couldn't be those of a human's.

"Maybe she's nervous," said yet a third male from behind the female, his voice laden with the heavy slurs and confusing pitches of a strange Earth accent.

Though Dorthea was certain that this male was being serious, a goofy grin spread wide across his cheeks as he smiled at her over the pale, pointy-eared being's shoulder. She hesitated, dredging up the motions necessary to speak.

"I… I can t-talk." Compared to the confident volumes of these strange people's voices, hers squeaked and scratched in a pitifully soft sort of way.

"Can you tell us your name?" the man holding her wrists inquired. Again, the sincerity of his thoughts astounded her. Even at home, no one seemed so… _honest_… as he in their minds. It enveloped Dorthea in a wave of comfort that, if she wasn't careful, could lead her to harm. But the blanket was so warm and soft that she couldn't help but to fall totally and completely helpless to it.

"Eliza DeVult."

Well, not _totally_. Her sister's life was at stake. One wrong word that got back to the Tarkans and she'd be back before Dorthea could scream for help. Besides. 'liza took Dorthea's name when they parted. If there were two Dorthea DeVults running around, someone would be bound to notice.

"Do you work here?" His questions interrupted her train of thought. Staggered, she blinked a few times before looking back up at him.

"N-no, I—"

"What happened to you? You've got some pretty nasty bruises there." Dropping his eyes to scan the visible sections of skin, there was no way he missed the green and yellow stained across her flesh like paint.

"I-I—"

"Captain, don't you think you should—"

"—take her down to the sickbay? Exactly what I was thinking."

So this man honest man was the captain. And he hadn't lied; he _had_ been wondering whether or not to take her down to see a man he called Bones. The woman's protest just confirmed his shaky decision. He released Dorthea's wrists to much appreciation from her (the broken bone was beginning to smart) and instead draped his arm over her shoulders, steering her away from the crowd. Like with the lights, she shied away from his touch, only to result in cowering into his side.

"Spock, you've got control until I get back," he called back to them.

"Yes, captain." The crystalline way he spoke told Dorthea that it was the chalky non-human.

As the group they left behind dispersed, Dorthea felt the five other sources and eight minds also separate. This disoriented her, threw her gravity off balance. Were her readings off? She didn't recall seeing two others anywhere near where the extra thoughts had been.

"Eliza!"

The name jogged her back from her worries and it took her a minute to remember that she _was_ Eliza.

"Yes?" she mumbled, keeping her eyes locked on the floor ahead of her. She realized that her feet no longer moved forward but hung off a cushioned countertop, maybe a foot into the air.

The captain stared at her for a moment, deliberating in his head whether or not she had suffered brain damage, and spoke again.

"This is Doctor McCoy. He's going to help you."

Dorthea hadn't noticed the new origin of thought in the room. Maybe her readings _were _off….

"Can I have you lay down on the table, Eliza?" The new male's speech was gruff, like he was irritated. The glance he shot the captain confirmed this without Dorthea's telepathy.

She remained sitting upright, not wanting to bare herself again to a "doctor". At this thought her body reflexively tightened, prepared to make a break for it if needed.

"I have a broken wrist," she supplied stiffly, unable to keep the fear from her voice.

McCoy (Dorthea refused to think the word "doctor") nodded indulgently, like humoring a child. "Yes, but I need to check for internal injury. You have some pretty nasty bruises." He quoted the captain's words from before.

Dorthea gazed in horror at the captain, begging silently with him to _please_ help her. She wished that he could hear _her_ thoughts. Once more, the blanket of warm comfort and safety bundled her up tight. Still staring at his face, Dorthea lowered herself down onto her back so the doctor could inspect her bruises.

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**A/N: yo! this is Taylor-V! but you already knew that, lol. and i have recently become obsessed with star trek, and i'm watching all the episodes and whatnot so i don't feel like such a loser with no idea what anyone's talking about. lol. but yeah, i saw the movie and i got this itch to write a star trek fanfic and i just couldn't scratch it, so i gave in! lol. so, this is the product of said itch! lmao. okay, enough rambling. i hope you enjoy and i'm sorry for any mistakes in the terms or whatever. please fix me if there is! thank you! read and review, por favor! peace, yo!**

**p.s... thank you deedah for letting me borrow your name! i'm sorry if i offend you with my suckish writing skills, cuz i can totally change the name. no, just kidding. the character IS dorthea. that's who she is, who she grow into. i can't change it. lol. but i heart you, and if i DO offend you, you have permission to slap me. lol.**


	3. Who Doesn't Like Surprises?

**Chapter 3 – Who Doesn't Like Surprises?**

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After McCoy had probed her body with his fingers, however gently he meant to be, Dorthea began wincing with every movement. The once dormant bruises now pulsed and throbbed even when she sat still. And she currently sat very still.

People dressed in yellow, blue, and red loitered around the mess hall the captain had directed her to, shooting her confused looks that made her unconsciously stiffen. It seemed that the harder she tried to fade into invisibility, the more glances she received. The more glances, the harder the bruises pounded. She desperately wished for the captain's shawl of protection. But he was sliding his way through the line with two trays, one for himself and one for Dorthea. During the medical inspection her stomach had growled embarrassingly loud, and when she thought about it, she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. Her body felt incredibly weak and tired, she just wanted to sleep. But this captain insisted on nourishing her before she could collapse. He returned in minutes, one loaded tray in each hand, and sat down across from her. The plastic made a smooth hissing noise when he slid it under her nose.

"Thank you," she muttered automatically.

"Just eat," he ordered. "You look like I could snap you in half with my pinky."

She flinched inwardly but raised her hand to pick up the triangle of bread, coated in red paste and a white, gluey substance. Maroon slices of meat scattered the surface.

"Um… what…?" Dorthea couldn't bring herself to finish her question, it somehow felt rude. She held her tongue and bit into the tip of bread.

"Oh." The captain struggled to contain a fit of laughter as he watched her chew, contemplating the new food thoughtfully. "It's pizza."

She couldn't help but grimace, wrinkling her nose; she didn't like the food too much. It burned her tongue with a strange, prickly heat. The captain couldn't help but laugh at her expression.

"I take it you're not from Earth?"

Shaking her head, Dorthea swallowed so she could answer. "Um…. I'm half-human, half Mari. But I've never been to Earth before." She hesitated. "You have… strange… food. Does it always burn?"

He chuckled again. "It's the pepperoni. It's sort of spicy."

Dorthea nodded and braved another bite. The pepperoni heated her tongue more drastically than before and she hurried to swallow. The captain held up a roll of bread.

"Try this: it'll take the spice away."

She took it gratefully and bit down eagerly. He was right, the spice dulled considerably. As soon as she could, Dorthea picked the circles of meat off her pizza and set them on the paper plate.

"Thank you…" she said again, pausing before addressing him. She still didn't know his name. "… Captain."

The man blinked, dazed, and then smiled. "I forgot. I'm James T. Kirk. Captain of _USS Enterprise_." He extended his hand.

Dorthea set down what was left of the roll and held out her right hand, as her left was buried under a solid cast McCoy had fitted onto her wrist.

"Thank you, Captain Kirk," she rephrased.

He nodded and leaned back in his seat. "So. Let's hear it. How did you end up on this ship without anyone detecting you?"

Dorthea froze. Was she in trouble? Would she be kicked off? She had nowhere else to go!

The sudden patter of feet saved her from answering. Swiveling in her seat, she and Kirk faced the newcomers. It was the group she'd encountered before minus two; the chalky non-human called Spock, the radiant female, the short man with the funny accent all directed themselves toward where Kirk and Dorthea sat. Their thoughts were riddled with curiosity, stunning Dorthea's head again. The two extra origins were present once more, making her feel off-kilter.

"May we join you, Captain?" Spock's perfect pronunciation rang like a bell in Dorthea's ears.

"Sure, grab a seat," Kirk insisted, dragging back a chair in a gesture of encouragement.

"Thank you."

Spock and the female and the other male sat down simultaneously, making it impossible for Dorthea to trace the extra minds.

"Captain, we have received instruction from the Federation to proceed from the Delta Quadrant and around to Qo'nos, but I requested that Sulu restrain from doing so until you gave the orders." Spock spoke with what felt like the utmost respect for his captain, his words still clear as glass.

"Thanks." Kirk's laid back speech dimmed in comparison to Spock's impeccable sentence structure. Like a dying star crossed by Halley's Comet. "Did you say anything about our guest?" The pause before the word 'guest' was barely noticeable, and if Dorthea hadn't been captivated by his honest thoughts she wouldn't have detected it. His uncertainty frightened her.

"No, Captain. It seemed as if you would not approve of me doing so."

"You're a good man, Spock," Kirk commended, patting the non-human jovially on the back.

Spock allowed himself a small twitch of his lips, a smile that shocked Dorthea. He didn't seem the type to smile. Kirk focused his attention back to her, pushing his tray a little ways out so that he could lean in with his elbows on the table.

"Now, you were going to explain to me how you got on this ship."

This was it. She was going to be kicked off. Somehow, Dorthea would have to convince him to let her stay. She picked his brain for anything that would help her achieve her goal. Deciding to only state the necessary, she too shoved away her tray. Her hands fell, folded, into her lap and she stared down at them rather than meet Kirk's intense gaze.

"I jumped onto the ramp as it was closing." The reply was short and sweet, answering his question for what he'd asked. "No one was there to see."

"Is that how you broke your wrist?"

"No."

"Will you explain?"

Dorthea hesitated. "I fell and landed wrong."

Spock's unusually slanted eyebrows furrowed almost unnoticeably and his deep brown eyes scanned her face for signs of falsehood. As did Kirk's, but he let the lie slide.

"Did you break it on board?"

"No."

"So… while the lift was closing, you pulled yourself up with one hand?" Kirk's tone was doubtful.

Tilting her head to the side, Dorthea frowned slightly. "Not exactly. I sort of… kicked myself up."

"Why did you board?"

At this, Dorthea's jaw clenched shut with an audible _snap_. Kirk and Spock exchanged the smallest of glances before standing up. The thoughts that flashed through their heads appeared and disappeared so fast that she didn't have time to register what they said.

"Well, until we can get you your own quarters, you should stay with us in the bridge." Kirk held out his free hand, the other suddenly balancing both of their trays. With no reason to object, Dorthea clasped his hand and steadied herself to stand. An arm fitted a loop into hers and she looked to the left to see the short human male with the silly grin and odd accent beaming at her.

"Right this way, ma'am," he instructed, tugging her away from the captain and Spock.

The man—who went by the name Scotty, he was pleased to inform her—had a chipper disposition, nearly skipping the way to said bridge. Being near him was a pleasant thing, made Dorthea feel happier even in such an uncertain environment. His thoughts, like Kirk's, were very innocent and honest, as happy as a clam. He so obviously enjoyed what he did.

The two of them, Dorthea and Scotty, reached the bridge five minutes ahead of everyone else. He took the liberty of showing her around, only brushing on the functions of each control like he knew how baffled she'd been upon her first step in the Enterprise, and introduced her to the other two people in the room. Both males, both young. One, a pale boy named Pavel Chekov sat as navigator. The other, Hikaru Sulu, the helmsman. Scotty had just touched on phaser control when the rest of the group filed in. Kirk immediately strode to the big, blue chair raised on a platform in the middle of the room and settled down, shifting his weight to find the maximum comfort zone. The female took a seat as communications officer, slipping on a headset as she did, and Spock managed to disappear without attracting Dorthea's attention to where he disappeared to. With no specific place for her, she hesitated off to the side of the room, out of the way.

"Sulu, take us out to Qo'nos," Kirk directed from his chair.

"Yes, sir."

"Uhura, do you know what Federation wanted from the Klingons?"

"Sorry, Captain," the female replied somewhat disdainfully, her waist-length hair swishing sharply as she turned her head to face him. "Ask Spock."

"Spock?"

The non-human's crystal voice answered instantly from around a corner.

"The Federation didn't elaborate."

"What the hell are we supposed to do if we don't know what the hell we're supposed to do?" Kirk growled.

Spock's pale face appeared around the corner, his face scrunched like he was unsure about something.

"Would you like me to contact them and inquire for further instructions?"

Kirk deliberated, a vein in his jaw pulsing, then shook his head. "No. We'll just see when we get there." He turned to face Dorthea, who gave him a bewildered expression. "Besides. Who doesn't like surprises?" He winked.

In the millisecond after, three things happened:

First: the extra sources of thought that had been toying with Dorthea's head since her arrival finally made sense. The structure of the origins were too similar to be different entities, and they weren't. They formed one highly developed, unusually spacious mind. They connected together like an intricate web, spun into each other by silky strands of thought.

Second: a smashing, grating noise seared Dorthea's eardrums, throwing her palms to her ears to mute the agonizing groan that came from the underside of the _USS Enterprise_.

Third: She, along with young Chekov, tumbled to the cold, hard floor as the ship tipped, thrown off balance by collision at warp speed four.

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**A/N: hey! so i'm excited. lol. this chapter took me awhile to think through, but i have to because i already know what i want to happen and i won't let myself write it until i get there, so... lol. this will keep me updating. can't wait! i hope you enjoyed this chapter, and i'll update soon! please read and review, thanks!**


	4. Three In One

**Chapter 4 – Three in One**

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Kirk flew to his feet, grasping the arm of his chair for support as he balanced on the balls of his feet on the platform. The others—Uhura and Sulu, Scotty and Chekov—either clambered back into their chairs and resituated themselves or rushed to regain control.

"Why the hell didn't they tell us there would be turbulence?" Kirk shouted over the din of metal twisting and screeching beneath them.

"It's not turbulence, sir!" Sulu bellowed, glaring intently at the screen before him. "We're under attack!"

Not a moment of hesitation crossed through Kirk's expression or mind, and he was in control once more.

"Sulu, fire up the phasers! Get the front and starboard shields _up!_ Uhura, try to reach whatever the fuck is out there shooting their goddam missiles at us!"

Like a well-oiled machine, the crew fell into familiar crisis patterns, disregarding the red hue that tinted the light around them and the whining siren that had gone off the instant of collision. Dorthea remained where she fell, too scared to move. While the others blustered around her, fighting off this unforeseen enemy, she kept still as a statue and gaped openmouthed at the commotion. If the Tarkans were behind this…. She shuddered in the same moment that the ship gave a tremendous quake, throwing her against the wall. Kirk slammed into his chair and grabbed the arms for dear life.

"Shields are down to eighty percent power!" Sulu informed him, gripping the edges of his desk so he didn't fall.

"Find the ships and fire!" Kirk snarled. "Uhura, forget about making contact. Chekov, find a safe area and get us out of here _now!_"

"Yessir," the boy nodded and turned to his desk.

Another tremble rocked the _Enterprise_, rolling Dorthea ruthlessly across the room, her vision a blur of white, red, and chrome.

"Sixty percent!" Sulu cried.

"Captain, we've locked onto our targets!" Scotty yelled, twisting from one spot to another in his swiveling chair, each time adjusting something out of Dorthea's line of sight.

"They have a cloaking device," Uhura supplied unhappily. "I can't contact them."

"Didn't I say forget it?" Kirk growled. "We don't have time to play nice!"

A third quake shook the ship as if to reinforce his words. Dorthea slid roughly past Kirk's chair as Sulu shouted out "forty percent". Tumbling uncontrollably did nothing for her already damaged body, and Dorthea gave up on restraining herself, let the boat rock how it may. She crashed into a pair of legs and, blinking in the brightness of the light, looked up at their owner. Spock stared down at her, face stoic and expressionless. She cringed away from him, hoping for another impact that would send her to the other side of the room again. At the involuntary movement, Spock's hard features softened and he bent down to her level.

"Are you in need of assistance?" He spoke only loud enough to be heard.

"I-I—" She didn't seem to be able to finish a sentence today. Her tongue felt too dry and big to fit in her mouth and she stumbled over the words that tried to form on it. When she didn't answer, Spock carefully slid his arms under her neck and knees and lifted with his legs, holding her body like an infant's. She felt his body tense next to hers, bracing itself against the shaking of the ship so he didn't lose his balance.

"Target destroyed!" Sulu's triumphant yell instantly silenced the bridge, except for the rumbling that still echoed through the metal body surrounding them. The red tint and crisis siren died slowly until there was no more.

"Captain, there are other ships coming to their aid," Scotty warned, all traces of perkiness evaporated, gone.

"Chekov, that safe haven?" Kirk demanded.

"The nearest we can reach is the Bajoran wormhole. It should take us directly to base."

Kirk scowled, displeased. "Is that the best option?"

"The best we have to survive, sir." Chekov's accent made his grave announcement a little less so.

"How long?" A vein in Kirk's temple throbbed purple.

"Two hours, sir."

"Two hours—!" Stuffing his middle knuckle in between his teeth, Kirk bit down. Hard. He inhaled deeply and exhaled, his chest rising and falling drastically. "Fine. Sulu, get us there. In _one_."

"Warp speed seven, then." Sulu shook his head but turned to the controls in front of him.

Uhura spoke into her headset and her voice rang in their ears as she glanced around at them all, her eyes lingering on Spock's. "We are entering warp speed seven in three… two… one."

The bridge kept totally silent for an unbearable five minutes, no one moving so much as an inch. Dorthea kept her body light, trying to evenly disperse her weight so Spock wouldn't have to work to hold her. Not one foreign thought crossed her mind, though she stretched out to hear.

"Who the fuck was that?" Kirk snapped.

"I was _trying_ to communicate with them," Uhura growled. "But they had a cloaking device—_which_, if you were paying attention, you would know."

"I'm sorry, I was trying to keep us from dying. Next time I'll just let you chat while we get blown to pieces."

Dorthea's mind rejected the vehement thoughts that poisoned her mind through theirs, causing her body to react and squirm farther away. Her back _thump_ed into Spock's chest and she scooted up again like she'd been electrocuted. He seemed to remember that she was still curled in his arms and gently set her down on her feet.

"Thank you," she mumbled to the floor.

When he didn't respond she glanced up for a split second, then diverted her eyes, only to check his thoughts. Oh! Which reminded her….

"You—!" she piped abruptly, lifting her face to stare directly at Spock. "You were the one…." Again, she felt rude. Discussing one's thoughts—or tone, or structure, for that matter—was considered personal and _very_ private. She'd just about shared his mind with the entire room.

"Yes?" He didn't seem offended, or shocked, or anything at all.

"Um… n-never mind." That clear tone intimidated her. Even one simple word sounded completely, perfectly constructed.

He only looked at her for a second longer, and then returned his focus to his colleagues, who had entrapped themselves in a heated discussion.

"Are you joking?" Scotty yelped. "Go back? After what those morons did to us? We weren't even half-way near their territory—"

"The Federation wouldn't have sent us there if they didn't have a reason," Kirk countered.

Scotty's voice only managed a low, indistinct mutter. "Yeah, well, I'm not too sure the _Fed-er-ay-shun_ isn't defective…. Go back, my arse… why don't _they_ go back, huh?"

"I agree with Captain Kirk," Spock announced, and with that stone-cold perfection Dorthea couldn't understand how anyone would be able to argue. "We have a mission to complete at Qo'nos. One obstacle should not stop us from achieving our goal."

"Either way, we have to get back to base soon and get some serious repairs done or we're SOL." Sulu's assessment shut them all up.

One by one they filtered back to their posts, leaving Spock, Kirk, and Dorthea in front of the Captain's chair. The two males exchanged another quick glance. Out of respect for their privacy, she turned her back to the conversation and focused instead on Chekov, watching him work.

"What do you think this is all about, Spock?" Kirk sighed under his breath so that the rest of the crew couldn't possibly hear. But with Dorthea so close, she couldn't help but pick up the gist of the conversation with their spoken words. The rest she gathered from the shadows of them in their thoughts. "I mean, sending us into an obvious hostile environment with _no_ warning and _no_ directions? I'm half tempted to go along with Scotty's idea."

"I am… unsure… at this moment." Spock met Kirk's gaze with a fierce determination. "But I trust _your_ instincts, Captain Kirk."

The way Spock emphasized the word _your_ had Dorthea probing his unusual mind, because it sounded like he was doubting the Federation as well.

"That makes one of us." Kirk dropped back into his chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

"Perhaps you need to sleep?" Spock suggested, taking in the purple bags forming under Kirk's eyes.

"_I_ need to sleep," Kirk repeated sarcastically, lifting his eyes over his hands. "Look at _her_. She must be exhausted."

Dorthea only realized they spoke of her because of the direction Kirk's thoughts had taken. And once she heard the word _exhausted_, her vision swam. Her legs trembled unstably and she rested her shoulder on the wall for support.

"Yeah." Kirk stood up and stretched his arms wide, yawning. "Come on, DeVult. I had a room prepared for you. I'll show you the way."

"I think I will accompany you," Spock allowed.

Kirk tucked his arm around Dorthea's waist and steered her toward the door, calling over his shoulder at the remaining crew.

"I'm gonna call it a day, you guys. When you're done, call in the night shift."

"Yessir." Chekov was the only one that responded.

Once the door slid shut behind the three of them, signified by the hiss of hydraulics, Kirk seemed to relax. Spock remained the same, just as tense as before. But his tightness didn't look unnatural, just a part of who he was.

"Good kid," he approved, meaning Chekov.

"Yes," Spock agreed absently.

They walked on—Dorthea stumbling every once in a while in a near-sleep—for what felt like hours to her legs, eyes, brain, and wrist. They'd all been through so much in the past twenty-four hours. Finally they reached a parting of ways. Spock stood to the right, while Kirk and Dorthea hesitated in the left.

"Good night," Spock said in customary dismissal, nodding his head to them each in turn before turning his back to them and continuing down the hall.

"'Night, Spock," Kirk yelled after him.

When Spock and his strange, tripled mind capacity had disappeared from view, Kirk pressed further on, his arm guiding a Dorthea that had almost gone numb from lack of sleep. Almost.

"He… Spock…. He's not… human—" her sentence ruptured with a sudden yawn "—is he?"

Kirk chuckled before responding. "Half. And half-Vulcan. Like you, but different species."

Dorthea nodded to show her comprehension.

They spoke no more while Kirk showed her the way to her quarters, wasting no energy on nothing that wasn't absolutely necessary. Once they arrived, Dorthea considered just collapsing on the floor in front of the door and sleeping there. But when she tried, Kirk just laughed and wearily held her up.

"Not quite yet," he said apologetically. Taking her hand in his, he pressed it palm-side down to a green pad in the wall and waited for a bright green light to scan across her skin. The door slid open with the familiar _whish_ and Kirk lugged Dorthea to a small, twin-sized bed. "There." He dropped her onto the mattress with nowhere near the grace that Spock had and scratched the back of his neck.

Curling up right on top of the blankets, Dorthea could barely sigh a quick "g'night" before falling victim to the black behind her eyelids.

* * *

**A/N: goodness gracious, i'm tired. lol. and i really have to stop saying lol. wow. but i just had to finish this because i'm getting so freakishly into it. woo! so i'm just gonna leave it with that because it's currently 1:11 a.m. and i still have to clean my room. okay. read and review, please and thank you!**


	5. Kept In Mind

**Chapter 5 – The Federation**

* * *

A stiff dizziness—unpleasant alone, disorienting combined—greeted Dorthea when she woke. Sitting up in bed proved to be quite a task, as her legs and arms seemed unwilling to comply with her mind, which also spun with head rush. Dimly, she wondered how long she'd been out. Her conscious thoughts, however, were directed to her sister. Where was she? Was she okay? Had she escaped? Was she looking for her? Had she even realized that Dorthea wasn't on the designated ship? Did she go back?

All the worries crowded her head and made it throb, pushing on the sensitive tissues of her brain. Lucky for her, the lights were off and the room pitch black. Hoisting herself onto her feet, Dorthea stretched her limbs, standing on her tiptoes and extending her fingers, before stumbling around the unfamiliar room. Lighting continued to evade her, and though she did enjoy the darkness, she really needed to see to find a restroom. She felt gross and embarrassed, not having showered in who knew how long while being escorted around by others. She had to have smelled awful.

"Lights…" she murmured groggily to herself. "C'mon… lights, lights…."

A soft glow erupted from the ceiling above her and she jumped, startled.

"Oh. Lights."

This light was softer than the ones in the hall, more of a golden orange glow that made every object look soft and blurred, rather than the bright white that was harsh and sharp. Dorthea shuffled over to a small door that she assumed (correctly) was a closet, hoping that Kirk had stocked it for her. If she had to wear her dirty, sweaty, damaged, long-sleeved vinyl suit any longer she might cry just from feeling so icky. Three identical red dresses hung in the tiny space and Dorthea eagerly snatched the closest, along with a pair of black, knee-high boots, and nearly sprinted to the bathroom. Steaming water that spouted from the showerhead relieved her cramped muscles and relaxed her brain, acting as a much needed massage. The beads of water felt like tiny balls of pressure that managed to squeeze into just the right spots, so tempting that getting out required a lot of self-control. Her reflection frightened her more than she'd been prepared for: the pale skin stretched over the bones in her face, stained purple and yellow; little injection marks in the crooks of her arms signified all the chemicals she'd been injected with over the past two weeks; her left eye was swollen shut and, though the dripping cast covered it, she knew her wrist would be enlarged, too. Turning away from the scary image in the mirror, Dorthea awkwardly pulled on her loaned garments and yanked a brush she found in the drawers through her waist-length maroon hair. After a minute of inspecting a toothbrush and toothpaste, for her planet had other means of dental care, she brushed her teeth and gathered the damp clothes from the floor, stepping out into the cool air of the bedroom. She dropped the pile of dirty clothing on the floor next to the bed and moved to sit at the foot of the mattress when a voice called her name.

"DeVult? Are you awake?"

Coming from somewhere in the walls, ceiling, something, Kirk's voice floated lazily to her ears. Dorthea jumped, startled, and contemplated where she should speak. Deciding to just speak loud enough so that her voice would hit anywhere, she loudly responded with a:

"Yes?" She wasn't sure if she didn't want to go back to bed.

"Report to the bridge."

Biting her lip, Dorthea hesitated before answering. "I don't know… well, where… to go, I mean…."

There was a pause. "Oh. Right." Kirk's tone sounded disgruntled and she wondered if she'd irritated him with her ignorance. "I'll send someone down to retrieve you."

"O-Okay."

Kirk didn't say anything back, so Dorthea sat nervously on the edge of the bed, twisting a lock of hair around her fingers in a confusing pattern, until a knock on her door shook her from the anxious stupor she got lost in.

"Who is it?" she demanded loudly, moving to stand next to the door and pressing her ear against the cold steel. Leaving the Tarkans' prison didn't reduce her paranoia.

"Lieutenant Uhura, come to collect Eliza DeVult."

Dorthea allowed the door to open, gazing warily at the beautiful woman from under her short, level bangs. Once sure that it was Dorthea who answered, Uhura spun on her heel and took long, swift strides down the hall so that Dorthea had to run to catch up. The woman didn't speak, but the silence was awkward and uncomfortable and twisted Dorthea's stomach nauseously.

"Did we reach the Federation safely?" she asked, hoping to relieve the heavy quiet from her shoulders. She hoped her terminology was correct.

"Yes." From the way she spoke, Uhura didn't sound angry. Just… upset. Whichever way her tone inflected, however, still ended the conversation. Dorthea gnawed on the inside of her cheek, curiosity rampaging through her, only privacy for her mind keeping Dorthea from reading it. The lieutenant was so quiet, so reserved. What could make her so? From what she'd seen in the short time she'd been conscious on the _Enterprise_, Uhura had a perky personality, a little tamer than Scotty's sarcastic wit but wilder than Chekov's innocence. Did she not like Dorthea, or was something going on? Was that why Kirk sounded so aggravated?

The walk to the bridge felt like seconds compared to the previous night's weary trek, and Dorthea found herself surprised to be in the room so quickly. With a _hiss_ the door slid shut behind them and Uhura led the way to Kirk, who sat as content as ever in his comfy blue chair. Dorthea felt like she was walking to her prosecutor when she stepped in front of him, her head ducked in inferiority.

"Did you sleep well?"

His question threw her off guard and she jerked her head up to stare wide-eyed at him, unsettled by the sudden change in his mood. Maybe it wasn't sudden; maybe time was playing with her head. Either way, she stammered her acknowledgement, still staring up at him. She quickly scanned his head, not feeling as intrusive reading his thoughts than she would've if she'd prodded into Uhura's mind. Again, nothing dishonest.

"Yes?"

Kirk smiled at her encouragingly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Bones wanted to check your head as soon as you got up. He thinks you might have a concussion. I'll escort you to sickbay." Standing from his chair, he stretched and commanded Spock to take over until his return.

"Yes, Captain." The half-Vulcan, half-human quirked his eyebrow at Kirk, twisting slightly in his seat. Though Kirk didn't catch the doubtful motion, Dorthea did.

She checked his mind as well, excited to be able to explore this stunning abnormality. He was considering the sudden interest the captain seemed to have taken in the redheaded intruder. He didn't understand it. Illogical, he thought. Making a mental note to get some time to herself to pick his brain apart, she followed Kirk, all the way reprimanding herself for getting so interested in such a personal matter that she wasn't even involved in one tiny bit. With a shudder, she recognized similarities in her and the Tarkans' actions and immediately stopped thinking about it.

"Are you cold?" Kirk asked, noticing the shiver.

Dorthea chuckled darkly. "No, just… thinking."

"About?"

She bit her lip, refusing to answer and share the atrocity of her curiosity. Kirk took this as the end of the conversation and led her through the doors into the sickbay.

"Oh, _Booones!_" he sing-songed, hopping onto the nearest empty table. Dorthea remained at his side, twisting the skin of her thumb until it rubbed raw.

"Shut up, you jackass," McCoy appeared around a corner with a medical tricorder. "No one wants to hear your already-annoying voice in a higher octave." He proceeded with a scowl to Dorthea, removing the scanner from the machine and running it lengthwise along Dorthea's body. She stiffened and froze, hands plastered to her sides. Reading the results of the scan, he sighed and looked back up at Dorthea, reattaching the scanner.

"Yeah, a slight concussion. You should prob—hey! Why is your cast damp?"

Dorthea glanced down at the rock-hard sleeve around her wrist. She shrugged.

"Didn't you wrap it in plastic when you took a shower?" McCoy scolded.

She shook her head, her throat too clogged with shyness to answer.

"Well, it's deforming! Now I have to recast it!"

For the next hour, Dorthea tried to sit still and silent while McCoy replaced the old cast around her wrist with a new one. Kirk and the doctor bantered playfully—no matter how angry McCoy tried to sound, Dorthea could still hear his actual thoughts—all the while, leaving Dorthea to stew in her own problems. She didn't really want to think about what would come next as her position right now wasn't so bad. Wasn't bad enough for her to want to leave, anyway. She felt safe here, with Kirk and Spock and Uhura and McCoy and Scotty and Chekov and Sulu. But, Eliza waited for her, somewhere in the galaxy, waited for her older sister to come and care for her. Waited for signs that she still lived and was coming. With a small sigh, Dorthea came to terms with the fact that she would, once again, have to run. It didn't used to be like this. Back home she'd been a good student, not top of her class, but she got through acceptably. She took care of 'liza when their parents were gone, which was a lot of the time. She studied the black market, intending to join the ranks of officers that infiltrated it as soon as she graduated. And then the Tarkans showed up. Not at her school, no. They wanted younglings, so their experimental subjects would last longer. Instead, they took 'liza, shaking the community down to the core. Dorthea had never been one to plan and plot, so she turned to the only people she knew that did. The rebellion kept violent thoughts circulating through their head, itching for the adrenaline high it brought about. Not only did they sneak around the laws to do it, but the violent thoughts themselves allowed conniving and scheming strategies to build up in the storage of their minds. Most of those that joined, Dorthea quickly learned, weren't bad people (though a few had their moments). They just disagreed with the views of most Mari. And they were happy to help her rescue Eliza. Their planning seemed instantaneous: well thought out, and put into action immediately. They snuck her to Eliza, switched them (lucky that Eliza and Dorthea could've been twins, had it not been for the three-year age difference), and waited for Dorthea's own escape. They didn't forget to mention that they couldn't wait for her for ever, and rightly so. At least Eliza was safe and out of the clutches of the Tarkans. Now, all Dorthea wanted was her sister in her arms. Even if it meant one good and one bad arm. One bad arm that a new cast now wrapped around.

"There," McCoy grumbled. "Now next time, _try_ not to soak it."

Blood flushed in Dorthea's cheeks, tinting them a pretty silver-blue, and she nodded obediently. Sliding off the table, she turned to look nervously up at Kirk.

"Where are we going now?" she inquired in a voice that just barely cleared a whisper.

"I…" he checked the time. "…am going to disembark. _You_ are going back to your quarters and will _stay_ there until I give the clear."

Kirk hopped off his table and started out the door.

"Wait!" McCoy's shout halted Kirk in his tracks. "She has a concussion. You need to wake her up every few hours when she sleeps, just to be sure of no lasting damage."

"I'll keep that in mind." Kirk jerked his head toward the door, indicating that Dorthea should follow.

She hurried to his side, lengthening her footsteps to match his. Soon she lost her breath.

"Why are we walking so fast?" she panted.

Kirk abruptly froze in front of her door, placing his palm on the consol and waiting for the door to hiss open. He pulled her in after him and let the door close. Swiveling on his heel to face her, he gripped her arms painfully with a sudden searing gaze in his eyes.

"You have to tell me _right now_ why you're on this ship, or I have to hand you over to the Federation for questioning and you don't seem like the type of person that's done anything wrong. I'd hate to subject you to that."

Immensely grateful for the extra hormone that ran through her blood allowing her to read minds, Dorthea _again_ skimmed through his thoughts. They sounded innocent enough. Determined, even. Sort of guilty. Plus, interrogation by the Federation didn't sound like a short process, which would keep her from searching for Eliza.

"My sister," she blurted involuntarily, consumed by that warm blanket his thoughts wrapped around her. "She was taken by the Tarkans for crossbreed experiments. I switched places with her so she could escape, and then ran. My rescue left, and I boarded the nearest ship. I just want to find her and be sure she's okay."

Kirk remained silent, his eyes not moving from hers. The thick atmosphere surrounding them made her nervous, and Dorthea delved into his mind to find what went on in his head as she waited.

It had already been decided, once she spoke. She would stay on board, oblivious to the Federation. The illogical trust he placed in her was staggering, unnerving. Dorthea worried for his safety; no one could be so irrationally trusting without getting hurt. But this is what she needed, someone who could take her to her sister. Using him wasn't a welcome prospect. She began fidgeting, twisting the smooth, stretchy fabric of the dress between her fingers. After a moment of silent plotting, Kirk released her and stood straight.

"All right. You stay _right_ here, and don't leave. I'll send someone down to guard you."

The _whish_ of the door signaled his departure.

"I won't leave—"

"Not to keep you from leaving," Kirk corrected wryly, disappearing behind the steel.

For unfathomable reasons, though Dorthea thought it probably had something to do with his ominous last words, fear rippled across her skin and shivered in the very center of her bones. The darkness around her, once safe and comforting, now held the potential for any sort of attacker that could kill her—or worse, keep her from Eliza.

"Lights." The command shook in her throat, coming out as a stutter.

Orange glowed from the ceiling, mobilizing Dorthea so she could clamber frantically onto the bed. She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin in the V made between the two caps. As a frightened mind tended to do, worst possible scenarios cropped up in her mind's eye, tensing her muscles and organs in the fight-or-flight response. Flight ruled again.

The sudden pounding of a fist to steel jolted Dorthea from her imaginings and sent her flying to the head of the bed, cowering against the wall. She let the shock of awareness fade before answering, and the knock sounded for the second time. Feeling like an invalid, Dorthea scrambled from her scrunched position and hovered on the other side of the door.

"Who is it?" she managed, though she knew the instant the words issued from her trembling lips.

Intricate and overly intelligent, only one mind in Dorthea's entire life had ever felt the way this one did.

"Commander Spock."

* * *

**A/N: hey! sorry for the lack of updates! i've been freakishly busy with cheerleading camp for the young 'uns. =p but i hope you like this chapter, it's getting farther to where i want it to be. it's kinda slow, just because i hate writing random introductory stuff, but it was necessary to explain Dorthea a little bit better. but i hope you like it, anyway! =) please please please please read and review! =D thanks!**


	6. Inspection

**Chapter 6 – Inspection**

* * *

Dorthea's body reacted immediately, despite angry protests from her mind. Allowing the door to slide open, she bounced in anticipation on the balls of her feet, rocking back and forth on her toes. All senses of fear that once wrapped their cold fingers around her insides disappeared to make room for the excitement that pulsed through her blood. Some part of her mind—way, way, _way_ back in the darkest corner—marveled somewhat disapprovingly at the effect this Spock had on her. Just hearing his crystal-accurate voice required a physical reaction.

And there he stood, hands clasped behind his back, blue uniform tight across his chest, body ramrod straight. Except for his head. His head tilted down toward her so their eyes could meet. Dorthea let out a breath of relief that had bubbled up in her lungs subconsciously when the first knock scared her. With the inhalation that followed she took in his wondrous mental capacity, like a cigarette addict after centuries of sobriety.

"Miss DeVult," he greeted her, nodding his head in acknowledgement. "May I come in? I dare say I will not be of much use if we are both standing out in the open."

"Of c-course," she stammered, scolding herself for being so impolite. She backed out of the way and watched his smooth step over the threshold, the silky black hair on his head ruffling in the breeze from the door.

Spock almost lazily (almost because nothing he did could be done lazily) scanned her room, slowly turning his head to inspect every inch. Saying nothing. Always saying nothing unless it was necessary he speak. The silence ate at Dorthea's already nauseous stomach.

"You didn't have to come here, you know," she mumbled, feeling guilty. He must have better things to do than guard her.

"Quite the contrary, Miss DeVult." A wry smile played on his lips. "I am under direct orders from Captain Kirk to keep watch over you." He twisted his body so that he faced her in entirety, his head leaning slightly to the side again. "He seems to have become astonishingly concerned for your safety."

Silver-blue blood pooled in her cheeks and she turned away. Though Spock's outer façade would not show anything other than what he'd said, Dorthea could hear his thoughts. He was… confused. Curious. Why should Kirk take such a lost, little bird under his wing? What was the purpose? Illogical. No reasoning. And yet, she stood before him, trying to rip a hole into her dress with her nails; and here _he_ stood, supervising her.

"You must have better things to do than this," she spoke her self-conscious thoughts aloud, down to her feet.

Spock's eyebrow elevated. "Captain's orders," he reminded her.

"Well…." Dorthea cast around for inspiration, eyes landing on a chair. "Why don't you sit down? D'you know how long I have to hide?"

"I am unsure, and I will stand, thank you."

"Are you sure?" Sitting down on the foot of her bed, she swiftly kicked her dirty clothes to the side, out of his view, hoping he didn't notice.

"Quite."

* * *

Kirk's legs were strong and formed long and powerful steps through the halls so that Lieutenant Uhura almost had to run to keep up.

"Captain, I don't understand why we're making such a big fuss to keep this _illegal intruder_ safe," Uhura insisted. "Just give her up to the Federation. She's not—"

"Uhura, when you're captain I'll take your input." Kirk's stride lengthened.

"But you don't know what she could be _doing_ here!"

"I know you, Uhura. You're a good person. You wouldn't turn an innocent person in for questioning, would you?"

"You don't know she's innocent of anything!"

"What would she be guilty of then?" Kirk stopped abruptly, locking his legs so that Uhura traveled a few more feet before realizing he wasn't there.

"Boarding a Starfleet spacecraft without legalized permission, for starters."

"While running away from inhumane scientific experiments." Kirk's mouth twitched downward into a defiant line. "Do you want me to just dump her back there to be tested on?"

"I'm just thinking about the safety of everyone here," Uhura hissed, stepping into his face. "_Captain_."

"And your _job_," Kirk snarled. "If you get caught harboring an unapproved passenger, you'll be penalized."

Uhura's face wiped blank of every emotion except insult. "That is _not_ what this is about."

"Then what _is_ it about, Lieutenant?" Kirk spat. "State your objections now, because I have an entire board to deflect."

"I already told you." Her tone softened to a deadly whisper. "She. Is. An. Endangerment. If Tarkans are chasing after her we're all in the line of fire. We're wasting our efforts trying to help one person out of the entire galaxy, and putting ourselves in danger by doing it. Think about what you're doing." By the end of her explanation, her voice pleaded with him. "Please."

"Uhura. Isn't this what the Federation does? Makes the world a better, peaceful place? Even if it means bending a few small rules."

"_Bending_ a _few_—!"

Kirk swept past her, the resulting wind stirring her shining mahogany locks. Rolling her eyes, Uhura made off the opposite way.

"We're all getting fired," she grumbled.

* * *

The same awkward silence seemed to last forever, permanently raising the hairs on Dorthea's skin. She kept her head resting on her drawn-in knees, gazing at Spock in wonder. He kept his formal stance the entire time, a look of mild interest held on his face as he glanced around her room with smooth motions. Dorthea didn't mind the quiet, however much her body squirmed. It gave her what she so wanted: a chance to dissect this incredible mind.

Her previous observation proved faulty. It wasn't so large and spacious when she had the time to probe around, and definitely not three separate origins. But the complexity of it would, at first encounter, cause that illusion.

Like teeny, tiny, silvery-white threads of some silky material, interlaced with each other in such ways that Dorthea found herself lost in the beautiful patterns, traveling with her own mind around each individual thread that she could separate from the others. This was complicated, as there were millions. Billions. Trillions of billions. Each thread of thought had strange, liquid-and-fire signals pulsating through their hollow interiors, reacting with each other surge of liquid-flame, changing and melding with contact. The unusual substance carried infinite amounts of thoughts that weaved through others just as the liquid-fire did, forming conclusions and hypotheses and ideas. Some carried speech, some motor functions, others transported thoughts and images, hypnotic music, and still others the bodily functions like the beat of his heart and inflation of his lungs that he didn't control. Plus many more that Dorthea didn't have a name for. Outside worlds didn't exist anymore, not when she wandered through his fascinating mind. She only saw the tiny, sprawling threads. Normal minds didn't have this. Their threads of thought weren't silvery and luminous, but pure white, and considerably less. Not as intricately structured. Normally just vertical and horizontal, occasionally oblique, and rarely there would be some spiraling strands. They would always—_always_—form a path leading to the brain. Spock's… well, Spock's just went haywire in the most organized, radiant way possible. Dorthea found her mouth gaping, jaw dropped, stunned into a numb immobility. And along one of these threads, Spock wondered if she was ill or just mentally compromised.

"Miss DeVult, a—"

"D—Eliza. Call me Eliza." She wasn't so catatonic that she forgot what was at stake.

"I do not think that would be appropriate…."

"Hush." Dorthea shook her head, totally aware now of her surroundings. "All this last name stuff… it's so impersonal."

Spock's expression didn't deviate from the cool, collected form he held it in.

"Oh. I forgot." Dorthea blushed blue and silver. "Vulcans do the impersonal thing, don't they? But then, you're only half, so…." She beamed at him. "Could we compromise?"

Spock stared at her, his eyebrows furrowed in the slightest. "How would you like to do that?"

"In informal situations, you call me Eliza. Any other time, you may call me Miss DeVult."

His extraordinary head told her the answer before his mouth did.

"I suppose… that will be possible. And this, right now, would be an informal situation?"

"Yes," she agreed, trying to mirror his perfect clarity.

Spock blinked once before speaking again. "Then, Eliza… are you well? You seemed…."

"Out of it?" she finished for him, half a frown occupying her face. When he called her 'Eliza' it disgruntled her a little. Guilt. For lying about her identity.

"If you prefer that terminology, then yes. Out of it. Doctor McCoy suggested that your concussion might have repercussions."

"I'm sorry," Dorthea apologized sincerely, picking nervously at the rumpled blanket under her. "Your mind is just so _boggling_." That was the best word she had for describing what it did to her own brain.

Spock lifted his brow. "I apologize—my mind? Are you telepathic?"

"I'm half-Mari, half-human," she explained simply, shrugging her shoulders unimpressively. "Human on my father's side."

"I understand," Spock nodded once in comprehension. Then, with what sounded similar to wariness, "Do you partake in the black market on your planet?"

"No," Dorthea shook her head, maroon sheets of hair billowing around her pale face. "I enjoy peaceful thoughts. Would you mind if I inspected your mind further?" She stood from the indent she'd made on the mattress and stepped closer to him, right hand held up eagerly.

* * *

Kirk saluted his predecessor with a hand to his forehead and a bright, genuine grin.

"Hey, old man!" he taunted, slapping Admiral Pike on the shoulder. "What are you doing out of your wheelchair so soon? Don't want you damaging a hip, now, do we?"

"Hello to you too, Captain Kirk," Pike smiled in tolerance for the new Captain's jokes. He gazed wistfully up at the _Enterprise_. "You've been taking good care of her?" The sentence came out more like a threatening question than a statement. More like, _she'd better be in better shape than when I'd left her or you're dead_.

"In perfect working condition," Kirk assured the Admiral, nudging him in the ribs with his elbow. "Unlike you."

Pike sucked in a breath; his body was still sensitive. Kirk straightened and fell somewhat serious.

"Except for that attack last night on the way to Qo'nos. I mean, what the hell was that about, Pike? Sending us into hostile territory?"

"Don't ask me, I didn't assign this one."

"Well who the hell did? We barely got out of there in one piece."

"What's wrong, Captain?" Pike jabbed one of his own insults into the younger man's rock hard ego. "A little trouble too much for the infamous James Tiberius Kirk?"

"No, but they didn't even give us _direction_ except to _go_ there!"

"Well, let's talk with administration later. For right now, let's go have a look-see on my old ship, shall we?" Pike draped his arm around Kirk's shoulder and steered him back to the _Enterprise_. Kirk couldn't kill the feeling that the Admiral was distracting him, but followed his lead anyway.

They climbed the ramp, bantering lightly, and stepped into the white lights of the ship, blinding after the relative darkness on base. Both Kirk and Pike blinked the tears that surged over their rapidly shrinking and dilating pupils. Once their vision cleared, Pike sighed a sigh of longing.

"I miss this ship," he stated nostalgically.

"Don't blame you in the slightest, sir," Kirk said softly. He would definitely miss the _Enterprise_ if he ever had to leave for some ungodly reason.

Wandering through the halls brought back a lot of pleasant—and unpleasant—memories, and Kirk focused on the former. When Bones snuck him on board by injecting him with an Endorian Mud Flea vaccination (though that _could_ be categorized as unpleasant), directing Scotty to the bridge after rescuing him from the tanks, etc. He got lost in the memories, barely listening to anything Pike said as they walked. Soon, though, he found themselves leisurely strolling in crew quarters. Pike slowed to a stop and leaned against the wall, grunting as he did.

"Are you okay, Pike?" Kirk teased in an effort to keep the man moving away. "This walk must be killing you, huh?"

"C'mere, Kirk. Let's talk."

Kirk hesitated for barely a second and then joined his previous Captain on the wall. "What's on your mind, Admiral?"

A low chuckle rumbled from the older male's throat. "You already know, Jim."

Kirk avoided his undoubtedly stern gaze. "No idea what you're talking about."

"The girl you're harboring without permission. That you picked up on your last stop."

* * *

The abrupt question shot both Spock's eyebrows upward, his brown eyes locked on her green ones.

"I do not think that would be a wise choice," he allowed slowly, still incredibly clear even through his obvious awkwardness.

"Please?" Dorthea would get down on hands and knees if it meant she could explore this phenomenon. "I won't do anything you don't want me to. I won't invade anything private. Just, the _structure_ of your brain—well, not your _brain_, exactly, but your _mind_—is just… incredible! So _different_… and more complex and difficult than anything I've ever encountered. Completely and utterly unique." She took a bold step forward, and without waiting for permission fitted her hand around his cheek. His skin felt cool, calming against the agitated heat that warmed hers. He exhaled almost unnoticeably.

"Fascinating," she heard him murmur, staring directly into her eyes.

"May I?" she asked again, truly not wanting to disrupt his privacy. The physical connection between her palm and the flesh of his cheek made it a struggle to stay blocked from his mind. Physical contact always made it harder to resist.

"If you wish." His voice was soft with the shock of her touch.

Dorthea let the shaky barrier drop and again overwhelmed herself with the intensity of his mind and thoughts. Silver webs of thought enclosed her in her own head and she would've leaped with joy, if she'd had any control over her body. So many threads surrounded her that she didn't know where to start. A loud interruption in Spock's—now Dorthea's as well—ears burst through their mental fusion.

"Spock, tell Sulu we're still going to Qo'nos."

Irrational fear jumped through Spock-and-Dorthea's body at Kirk's too-controlled words. If she hadn't been reading Spock's immediate reaction, she wouldn't have understood the sudden, yet short-lived panic. It was a code, a code telling them to run. Someone was coming to search for them. Dorthea couldn't move to disconnect their minds, frozen with fear. Spock, however, snapped back to his collected self and launched into action.

"Yes, sir," he spoke to no where in particular. With one swift, fluid motion he wrapped his fingers around Dorthea's hand and yanked her out of the offending room.

"Wait!" she yelped, racing back. "My clothes! They'll see them!" After snatching up the ruined suit and undergarments, she hastily remade the bed and dashed back to Spock's side. He grabbed her hand once more and sprinted down the hallway, Dorthea trailing behind. After maybe two minutes of running, he pulled her into a different room. As soon as the door _whish_ed shut, she dropped her clothes on the floor and doubled up, panting. Dimly, she wondered how she'd managed to escape from the Tarkans in her condition. Adrenaline must really have an effect on her species.

"Where… are we?" she gasped.

"My quarters," Spock responded. "Captain Kirk has instructed us to remain here until he can personally come and collect us."

Dorthea's hands shook as she thought about the alternative. Eliza…. Her dear, dear Eliza. Stranded without her older sister or any other form of care. That wouldn't do. She would not allow it.

* * *

**A/N: woo! so i was freakishly excited for this chapter because it's getting there! slowly, slowly, it's getting to where i want to write! woo! lol. but SLOWLY is the key word. where i want to write is way down the line, so i guarantee more chapters! =D and this one i dedicate to my first reviewers: freesparrowsky, MeilingRae, and RachyDoodle. i love getting reviews, it's so helpful and uplifting. so thanks, you guys! for being there for me and taking the time to review! =D i really hope you enjoy this chapter. and don't forget to read and review! thanks again!**


	7. Shadow

**Chapter 7 – Shadow**

* * *

Dorthea awoke in an uncomfortable position, having curled up on a small chair and fallen asleep. Her neck ached, almost at a ninety-degree angle with the rest of her body and parallel to the armrest. Her shoulders were stiff from holding her body's weight so that her neck didn't snap during her rest, and her abdominal muscles clenched tight in an attempt to relieve some of said weight from her arms. Her feet were propped up on the other armrest, straining her calves and thighs in painfully odd ways. She rolled onto her back, a more reasonable position, and stretched the kinks out of her body, yawning hugely. As her core muscles pulled, she froze. Pain. She could feel it, gripping her abs, curling her in on herself. Oh, how she hated—

"_Cramp!_" she moaned, stretching out compulsively. Her lungs protested against the sudden tightness, heaving against her chest so that she panted like a dog. "Cramp!"

Rolling directly off the chair, she _thud_ded on the floor, which added to the ache by sending a jolting pain straight through her arm.

"Cramp!" She squirmed desperately, trying to stretch out the cramp in her abs. But moving anywhere but to tighten it further hurt too much. So she wriggled on the floor, gasping for breath, clutching her stomach.

Just then, Spock stepped out of the bathroom, followed by a cloud of white steam, looking as smooth and dry as if he hadn't just taken a shower but was just _that_ hygienically perfect. His eyes drifted across her writhing form and he lifted his eyebrow.

"Are you well?" he repeated his question from the night (was it night? Dorthea couldn't recall what the time was, then or currently.) before.

"Cramp!" Through the tears blurring her squinted vision, she could see his lips twitch upward for just a minute. If she hadn't been in so much agony, for abdominal cramps were the worst of them all, she would've scowled and checked his thoughts. As such, she couldn't focus her mind enough to read the undoubted humor in his head. "Cramp!"

"In which part of your body?"

Glowering at him as best as she could, Dorthea almost yelled,

"_Cramp!_" She tried to stretch and indicate her abs, but it just wouldn't budge. She curled inward further, pulling her back muscles.

Spock knelt down on one knee and gripped her arm with a startlingly solid grip, steadying her uncontrollable flailing. Whimpers issued from Dorthea's lips in bubbles that burst from her lungs, fighting against the pain that held her abs in a concrete mass since her body couldn't. With a swift movement, Spock braced his hand against her stomach and pressed his thumb into a point just diagonal from her belly button, pushing cleanly through the different muscles. For one moment, Dorthea remained stock still, stunned. And then the twisting agony disappeared. She fell totally limp, panting heavily, her entire body released from the cramp.

"Thank you," she sighed, chest heaving drastically.

He merely nodded once and stood up again, striding over to his bed and fixing it so absolutely no wrinkles disrupted the comforter. Dorthea clambered to her feet and stretched gingerly, carefully testing each body part for any other hints of muscle cramps.

"Has Captain Kirk come yet?" she inquired, failing to stifle a yawn.

"He arrived five hours ago, after departure from the base," Spock answered, keeping his gaze locked on the blankets. "You are free to leave when you wish, although he does request that you report to the bridge when you feel well enough."

"What time is it?" Could she really have been sleeping for so long?

"Five minutes until oh-seven-hundred hours."

"How long did I sleep?"

Spock glanced her way for a millisecond, then fixed his eyes on the pillow he straightened. Dorthea's face fell slightly.

"Approximately ten hours."

"Wow… long time."

"Yes." While Dorthea felt sure Spock would follow with some remark about the need for rest, he surprised her and walked quickly to the door. Trying to understand, she searched his mind for the answer to his change in behavior toward her. Unfortunately a wall of some sort blocked her from entering, one that she was certain he'd build up in the time she'd slept. She shivered, embarrassed and ashamed. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her; she must've offended him.

The door hissed shut behind him and she waited only a minute more before hurrying out and back to her room. She felt that she could accurately remember the path to the bridge this time, so after showering (and she wrapped her cast in plastic this time), dressing in an identical red dress, and brushing her teeth and hair, she proceeded down the halls. Following the thoughts of passersby aided her in finding her way and she soon stood in front of the steel doors that led onto the bridge. They opened with the familiar hydraulics and she stepped in, gazing with rapture around at the room that she only now took the time to appreciate. Uhura, radiant and glowing as ever, working at the Communications station; Chekov at navigations, struggling with his 'V's while chatting with Sulu at the helm; Scotty, leaning back leisurely with his feet up on the Bridge Engineer's computer, snapping at his Tribble for waking him; Spock laboring diligently at the Science Officer's station; and Kirk swiveling in the blue Captain's chair to face her, a triumphant smile spread across his cheeks. He bounded from the raised platform to stand in front of her.

"Look at that!" he grinned sarcastically at her. "The hitchhiker's still here. Did you have fun in hiding?"

"Very much," she supplied with a grin a little less bright than his, toned down by shyness. She glanced furtively toward Spock, who'd suddenly stiffened in his seat. "And I wanted to say thank you, for everything."

"Don't mention it."

"But I—"

"No, really. Don't mention it." Kirk leaned in and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. "Uhura's still a little pissy."

The subject of that sentence grumbled something incoherent, flashing a glare their way. Kirk straightened up and a sly smile crept across his lips.

"Besides. You didn't think you'd get a free ride, did you?"

Dorthea started. What was he talking about?

"You can't just wander around all day!" He spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If we're going to be lying to the Federation for you, transporting you all over the Milky Way, you're going to _work_ for it."

Fear of the unknown made Dorthea's throat stick like glue so she rasped when she said,

"That's fair." And she wouldn't deny it. It was too much to ask to not assist in any way possible, but… she didn't know what she could do to help! Engineering had never been a strong point with her. In fact, it had never been a point at all. She stuck to social services classes in school, something she had the upper hand in. Any attempt to work with her hands or numbers tended to fall out miserably. She told him this. "But I don't do math well, or work with machinery. Unless you _want_ your ship to blow up."

"Okay, then. Keep DeVult away from Scotty. Check."

"Oy! What's wrong with Scotty?" the engineer called indignantly from his seat.

Kirk started her out with Uhura, at Communications. Dorthea's instructions were to follow the woman, take notes, help when she could. Basically just to watch and learn. Sort of a 'monkey-see-monkey-do' arrangement. Uhura's thoughts betrayed her actual emotions to Dorthea, telling her what she and everyone else already knew: that the woman didn't want her on the ship. Though the reasoning was sound and had a great deal of back up evidence, Dorthea couldn't resist feeling a little upset. But Uhura's exterior kept neat and polished, very polite and helpful. Dorthea tagged along until lunch time, feeling like a shadow all the while, but learning as much as she could. Excelling at anything was unfamiliar to her, but communications had a lot of ways to use her special talent. For starters, all the languages that she would've spent years learning in xenolinguistics proved unnecessary, as she had access to them all right in her head. All she needed was a mind. The tone of thoughts stood substitute for language when with foreigners, she could read their intentions clear enough through it. Really all she needed to learn were controls, so boredom snuck up on her within three hours. Lunch couldn't have come fast enough.

Quickly enough, pizza had grown on her. Dorthea still scrunched her face at pepperoni, but there were other kinds. She liked Hawaiian, so it was called. Especially the tangy, yellow fruits embedded in the layer of cheese. Uhura pointed out Kirk's table and moved to sit next to Spock, who, Dorthea was shocked to see, waited loyally at an empty table with his tray held in one hand and his other pulling out a chair for her. Shaking off the disbelief as soon as Uhura settled down next to the half-Vulcan, Dorthea scanned the mess hall for an empty table. She didn't want to interrupt any previous arrangements with the Captain and his colleagues. Doctor McCoy sat with Kirk, as did Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov, and Dorthea would be invading their social time if she squeezed in uninvited.

The only available table sat way in the back and Dorthea hurried to it, anxious to avoid any curious eyes. Curious thoughts followed her everywhere, though. She couldn't escape those.

_Who is that?_

_When did she board?_

_Why'd Kirk allow it?_

_Tarkans? Really?_

Of course, as if anything less could be expected, the lustrous silver thread that formed Spock's thought was the only one that caught her attention. Like a seagull and a shiny object. How pathetic. His eyes burned holes in the back of her neck when she sat down, skimming the big picture of his wandering mind.

_I can feel when you are here._

That pizza lurched up into her throat. Coughing spasmodically, she gulped down a large drink of water to still the sudden swirling of her stomach and its contents. The rate of her heart sped incredibly, flushing her skin with blue-silver. Her body didn't wait for her brain's permission, but whipped around in her chair to gawk at the smooth-haired back of his head. Maybe he'd been thinking of Uhura. Or _maybe_, and this would make the most sense out of the two, she'd been imagining it. She hoped she'd been imagining it. He wasn't even facing her. In fact, along a second string of thought traveled the words he spoke to Uhura at that very second.

_Miss DeVult, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from entering my mind unless you have my permission._

This wasn't a formal situation. He didn't have to call her Miss DeVult. Not a good sign. Though how she would respond to him, she didn't know. Vulcans couldn't read the minds of others without physical contact. But apologizing over and over again became unnecessary when he put up that uncomfortable wall. A black, solid mass that she just couldn't get through if she wanted to. Cold chills rippled across her skin, raising goose bumps where it touched, and Dorthea slowly faced the wall again. Biting awkwardly into the tip of the second slice of pizza, she became aware of the burning of blood under her skin, colliding oddly with the cold embarrassment that froze it. She hunched her shoulders as if it could block the rest of the world out and ate her lunch in shattered peace.

To make matters much, much worse, Kirk appointed her to the Science officer's station directly after lunch.

"No!" she practically yelped. "I mean, I'm feeling a little… overwhelmed."

Kirk patted her on the shoulder, the look on his face plainly stating that such a lame excuse would not free her.

"I've never had so many thoughts around me. I have a headache."

"Your species can block it out, right?"

Damn Starfleet Academy.

"Yes, but—"

He gripped her shoulders, whirled her around to face where Spock sat, and gently pushed her forward. She stumbled over her own feet, holding her arms out like wings to catch anything that would be of help stopping.

"Then get your intruding self over there before we go back to the Federation."

"Isn't there anywhere else…?"

"I've got you scheduled for science. Why are you so determined not to go over there?" Kirk's eyes narrowed, a playful smile spreading across his face. "Is poor Eliza scared of big, mean old Spock?"

Dorthea flicked him an irate glance and instantly straightened up.

"No, I certainly am not."

No, she certainly was not. Scared? Ha. No. More like, embarrassed beyond words. Still, she marched over to Spock and then nodded in confirmation at Kirk. He smiled approvingly and then turned back to his chair, pounding a rhythm out with his fists and whistling a tune to go with it. Hesitantly, she felt out with the very tips of her mind, testing to see if the shield still held. It did.

"Miss DeVult." Spock's clear voice felt colder in his greeting than before, more detached, distant.

"Commander Spock."

It took a minute of recuperation for Dorthea to be able to speak. When she did, it gushed out like a waterfall of words.

"Look, I'm really sorry, and I didn't mean to offend you but it just came out because I had to at least try because your mind is so amazing and I just had to find a way to inspect it because—" she took a breath "—if I didn't I would be sitting here arguing with myself whether to or not and then I accidentally _would_ and go too far and then I wouldn't have your permission and it would be worse and I understand if you don't want to be anywhere near me anymore and I'll convince Captain Kirk to change my schedule so you aren't in it if you don't want to be but—" another breath "—I just really want you to know that I'm really really truly sorry about going into your mind like that and I never will ever ever again I promise." After she shut her mouth, a fresh wave of embarrassment and shame washed over her, causing her blood to boil. She wondered if he even _heard_ half of what she said.

"Miss DeVult." His words were almost a sigh as he faced her. "Please do not worry yourself so much over such a small matter. And please do not think so low of me that I would avoid you simply because of a mistake that was, in some ways, my fault. I should not have allowed you access in the first place. But I am certain that you will not do so again without my absolute permission."

"Definitely," she muttered to her hands, folded in her lap.

Silence enveloped them once more as Spock buried himself in his work. But Dorthea couldn't help asking one question.

"Mr. Spock?"

"Yes?" This time, his speech wasn't nearly so icy. He jotted something down before looking up at her again.

"Will…." Dorthea's voice softened, its volume shrinking with her confidence. "Will you keep that barrier up forever, then?"

His deep brown eyes blazed with subdued emotion while he contemplated her query. The silvery threads again answered before he could.

"No, I do not believe so." Slowly returning to his work, Spock bent his head low over the paper he read. "And Eliza?"

Her heart skipped. He voluntarily used her—well, her _sister's_—name. Big step! _Big step!_ Maybe he didn't despise her after all.

"Yes?"

"I accept your apology."

* * *

**A/N: hey! so, i'm glad to have been able to update again (my boyfriend disappeared for five weeks, leaving me ample time to write =p). downside: i don't really like this chapter very much. but i'm also really out of it and kinda have writer's block and i'm kinda SHOVING at it (go away! go away! no one likes you!!!!!) and trying to get this up cuz i REALLY wanted to so this chapter didn't come out exactly the way i wanted to. in fact, that whole spock knowing when she's in his head thing? totally just came out when i was trying to think of something to put for his thought. it worked, though, so whatever! =p but, yeah, so.... let me know if it sucks or not. =p lol. thanks for all the support, guys! keep reading and reviewing! =D taylor-v out.**


	8. Qo'noS

**Chapter 8 – Qo'noS**

* * *

"All right guys." Kirk's voice rang out across the bridge, full of unusual authority. He walked into the bridge with purposeful strides, stopping in the center of the room so that all eyes could attach to him. Clasping his hands together, he extended his arms to point at the Earth engineer. "Scotty, are the transporters ready?"

"Aye, Cap'n." Scotty scooted closer to the panel. "They're fired up and ready for action."

Kirk swung his arms to point to Chekov. "Find the best place to pull out of warp."

"Yessir." The seventeen-year-old went straight to work as Kirk directed his attention to Sulu.

"When Chekov's done pull us out of warp and into orbit around Qo'noS."

"Yes, sir."

As if at an athletic event, Kirk bellowed up at the ceiling with unnecessary volume,

"LANDING PARTY, _ARE YOU READY?_"

Unlike the others, no one responded this time. Vocally, at least. McCoy rolled his eyes, elbow propping him up on the wall. Spock lifted an eyebrow from his station, and Dorthea was too nervous to speak.

She hesitated nervously, fidgeting with the belt strapped loosely around her waist that held a hand phaser, a communicator, and a tricorder, all of which she had just learned how to use the day before when Kirk had told her she'd belong to the group that beamed onto Qo'noS.

* * *

_"DeVult!" the captain jogged over to her where she sat at the Communications panel, quizzing herself on all the different species she'd learned in the past week since shadowing Uhura, having chosen this area as her own. Her lip bled lightly from all the times she'd bit into it when she couldn't remember a name. The honey-sweet taste of the silver-blue liquid had distracted her so that Kirk's call went unnoticed._

_"DeVult!" he repeated._

_"Yes, sir!" she immediately snapped her neck around at attention, causing a stinger to shoot through the nape of her neck. Rubbing the muscle in smooth circles, she winced and looked up at Kirk._

_"How's training coming along?"_

_"Good, I guess," she allowed, gnawing on her lip again. "I can remember all species from A to J, their planets, characteristics…." Her voice faltered off as she delved back into her memory for the K's. Kirk laughed at the unfocused look in her eyes, jerking her back to the present._

_"Good. I want you to beam down with us to Qo'noS."_

_Dorthea blanched, his words choking her like a rope around her neck. "Captain, I've only been here for a week—"_

_He cut off her protests with a dismissive wave of the hand. "Can you still read minds?"_

_"No." She shook her head so rapidly that her leveled bangs swept in front of her eyes and waist-length hair whipped from side to side. "No, did I forget to tell you? One day in every month I lose the ability. Sorry."_

_"Too bad. I want you down there. You'll be good company, and Scotty'll walk you through it. C'mere, Scotty!"_

_The engineer appeared suddenly at Kirk's elbow, startling Dorthea. "Aye, Capt'n."_

_"Show Specialist DeVult the away team ropes."_

_Scotty slung his arm around Dorthea's shoulders, pulling her so uncomfortably close that she leaned as far away as she could, giving him a strange look._

_"So here's what ya gotta know…." He steered her away from the captain, who had let out a loud burst of laughter at Dorthea's face, and over to the transporter platform._

* * *

After a minute of expectant silence, Kirk dropped his excited stance for a dejected sort of hunch.

"You guys are no fun," he pouted.

McCoy rolled his eyes the opposite way and stood up from the wall, shaking down his sleeve and moving over to the transporters. Spock followed silently, brushing his hand lightly on Uhura's shoulder as he passed. She smiled, her pretty skin flushing pink, before touching her fingertips to the palm of his hand in a gesture of farewell.

"What about you, DeVult?" Kirk checked, spotting her with her back pressed against the wall in sudden terror. "Are you ready?"

Dorthea shook her head, eyes wide, and clutched her hands into fists around the fabric of her dress.

"I'm gonna die!" she whimpered. "I'm gonna die! Everyone knows about the 'redshirts'! They _always_ die! I'm wearing red! I'm gonna _die!_"

Kirk chuckled and pulled on her thin wrist, trying to drag her to the pad. She put up quite a fight, locking her knees and planting her feet firmly on the ground.

"C'mon," he grunted, grabbing her hand with both of his and yanking. "You're not going to die."

Letting loose, he gave her some slack and then jerked her forward, like a reluctant fish hooked on a determined fisherman's line. She fell toward him and, using her instability to his advantage, Kirk tugged her onto one of the tiny, opaque hills. All the while she mumbled the same thing, "I'm gonna die," over and over again, her voice only failing when she her feet touched the hump.

"Stay," Kirk directed, pointing a commanding finger at her. After he was sure she was too scared to run away, he dropped his hand and straightened, wiggling around a little in his clothes. "You survived weeks of Tarkan torture," he reasoned. "One trip down to Qo'noS shouldn't be that bad."

Dorthea could only glare balefully at him before he said in a loud, clear voice:

"Energize."

Pretty golden lights encircled her, blowing like an electric tornado. Faster and faster they spun until they glowed white, and then—the Enterprise disappeared. Replaced, instead, with the terrain of Qo'noS.

Dorthea's reaction was instant, instinctive. She clutched Kirk's arm and pulled herself around to his back, peering cautiously over his shoulder. He and McCoy roared with laughter; even Spock cracked a reluctant smile. As soon as she could be sure no danger awaited them, she ducked out from around him, her head down in embarrassment, face blue-silver.

"Ah, DeVult," Kirk wiped his eyes with the heel of his palm and clapped her on the shoulder, nearly buckling her trembling knees. The transport had messed with her body, made it weak and shaky. "You kill me, you know that?"

She grumbled inaudibly, throwing him a dirty look from the corner of her eye that only made them laugh harder.

"I believe we should continue with our task," Spock's serious mood put a damper on their fun.

"Jeez, Spock. Don't be such a buzz-kill," Kirk complained, taking out his tricorder anyway.

"I apologize, Captain. Next time I will wait for you to finish your… buzz… before direction your attention to the situation at hand."

"What situation?" Kirk wondered absently, scanning the terrain with the device in his hand.

"We have just been beamed down to an apparently hostile planet—from our experience last week—with no directions except to not return until the task has been completed. Captain." Spock glared out at their surroundings while speaking, taking in everything just as he'd done in Dorthea's quarters. He withdrew his own tricorder and knelt down, holding it to the ground for a moment before standing straight again and replacing it in his belt. Then, with no warning, he began walking directly east of where they stood.

"That's not a situation," the captain scoffed after Spock.

"Little green-blooded elf," McCoy fumed.

"Yeah," Kirk sighed. "But he's a genius little green-blooded elf."

Dorthea pursed her lips in disapproval and turned her face away from them both.

Her body moved so quickly in the next second that it scared her, lunging for the doctor and Kirk and knocking them both flat on their backs. The _whoosh_ of air ruffled her hair and she buried her face deep into someone's neck.

"Spock!" she screamed as warning to the man that had wandered off, drowning out the low 'oof' that pushed from Kirk's lungs upon contact with the ground. Dorthea scrambled off the two men and bounced lithely to her feet, fingers brushing the phaser at her waist. Snapping it up into her hands, she braced herself and pointed the gun at the attackers.

"Wait!" she cried. "Please!"

Kirk and McCoy jumped to their feet, glaring warily at the Klingons that now stood fifty feet away. They stared at the party suspiciously, conversing with each other without moving their eyes. Spock already stood at Dorthea's right, his phaser in hand as well.

"Don't shoot," she murmured, tapping into the thoughts that the apparent leader was thinking. "They wonder if we're sent from Starfleet."

"Is it a good or bad wonder?" Kirk muttered under his breath, keeping his own eyes locked on the Klingons.

"I think… good," Dorthea decided, squinting like it would help.

"You think? You better be precise, DeVult." McCoy also fixated on the group.

"I'm ninety percent sure." Which was true. But… paranoia ran deep in her veins. "It's not _good_, exactly… but not _bad_ either."

"We're from Starfleet!" Kirk shouted toward them without waiting for further information. "I am Captain James T. Kirk, of the _USS Enterprise!_"

"They recognize your name," Dorthea informed quietly after giving the Klingons time to converse between themselves. "But they want to know who _we _are."

"Will they give us permission to approach them?"

Dorthea scanned the leader's mind again. "They aren't _hostile_… just wary."

"May we approach and speak peacefully?" Kirk bellowed.

"_HIja'._" The man in the center spoke with a guttural tone.

"Yes," the half-Mari translated. Without relaxing the tense atmosphere or equally tense body, she stood out of her offensive position and tucked the phaser back into her belt.

The four Starfleet members stepped slowly, measuring the Klingons' reaction to each movement, before settling a good six feet away.

"_nuqneH._"

"What do we want?" Dorthea barely made herself heard, too terrified of offending the warrior species before her. It suddenly occurred to her that she should've at least gotten this far in her studies if she was going to Qo'noS.

Kirk exchanged glances with Spock before speaking, his tone revealing no trace of uncertainty whatsoever despite his answer.

"We were hoping you would know."

The Klingon in front—the biggest—turned to face another, considerably smaller member of their group. Leering back at them, he rumbled,

"_tlhIngan Hol bojatlh'a'?_"

Dorthea shook her head. "No."

"What'd he say?" McCoy hissed at her.

"He wanted to know if we could speak Klingon."

"Can't he speak English?"

"Only a few words," Dorthea explained. "He understood Starfleet and Kirk's name. Someone translated for him for the rest of the time. Body language helps, too."

The leader pulled up the 'someone' he'd looked at before. He stood to the right of the leader and spoke in almost perfect English.

"This is GhubDaQ, and I am GhojmeH Taj." He gestured first toward the leader, still peering at them through suspicious eyes, and then to himself.

"I am James Tiberius Kirk, and this is Commander Spock, Petty Officer Eliza DeVult, second class, and Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy."

Dorthea shuddered. She _really_ wished he hadn't said "her" full name.

GhojmeH Taj nodded once. "You say you do not know your purpose here?"

"We were sent by the Federation, if that helps," Kirk supplied, half shrugging his shoulders.

GhubDaQ leaned over and mumbled something into GhojmeH Taj's ear. Kirk managed a questioning glance Dorthea's way before GhojmeH Taj spoke again.

"You say you belong to the _USS Enterprise_?"

"Yes."

Again the two Klingons in front talked amongst themselves, for longer this time while the four behind them glared at the landing party.

"Come with us," GhojmeH Taj grunted.

As one entity, the group of Klingons turned on their heel and began marching away, to no where that Dorthea could see.

"Where are they going?" McCoy grumbled, as the team reluctantly followed, though at a much slower pace.

"First City." The words came not only from Dorthea's mouth, but also from Spock's.

"How did you know that?" she asked, trying to keep accusation out of her tone. She would've searched his mind, but since the event that took place the week before she'd taken to avoiding it—and him, as it helped with temptation—all together.

"I do not believe I am mentally incompetent," Spock almost bristled, making Dorthea realize that she hadn't kept _offensiveness_ from her tone. But what he'd said must've offended Kirk and McCoy, because they both frowned indignantly.

Dorthea caught McCoy griping about 'pointy-eared gremlins' and stifled a laugh, but she sped up anyway in hopes of avoiding any arguments.

The walk to First City was long, much longer than Dorthea was accustomed to. According to her watch, it extended over about two hours. Two hours of nothing but land. It made her shiver, to think that she was so disconnected from civilization, stranded with a species known for its violent reputation.

When civilization did crop up, Dorthea huddled back with her team. She'd only ever been in contact with three species: the Mari, humans, and Tarkans (which wasn't exactly the most pleasant time she'd spent with others). She noticed how the tense atmosphere that had somewhat dissipated on their journey to First City fired right back up again, noting the strained way that Kirk's jaw muscle stood under his skin and how Spock's eyes constantly traveled around him as if watching for signs of attack.

"Where are we going?" McCoy murmured so the Klingons ahead of them couldn't hear.

Dorthea frowned, concentrating on the thoughts of GhubDaQ.

"The Great Hall," she answered after a moment.

"They are taking us to Imperial Command." Spock's voice dripped with unwavering certainty.

"What for?" the doctor snapped.

"I assume to speak with the Chancellor."

Kirk's eyes flicked to Spock's again. Not wanting to vocally invade their privacy, Dorthea dug instead through Kirk's mind.

_We should've been prepared for this._

Her eyes settled fearfully on Kirk's, and he stared back with a contained version of that same emotion.

* * *

**A/N: so i just discovered that the 's' in Qo'nos is actually capitalized (Qo'noS) so i apologize for that previously. but i'm just too lazy to go back and fix it. =p so those will stay that way until i become UNlazy, but any future Qo'noSes will be properly written. other than that...**

**i really hope you guys like this chapter! i struggled a little when i started writing it, but then i looked down at the clock and it was 8:49 P.M. and i had ten pages and it was done and i was like DANG! so, tell me what you think, as always! and i hope you enjoy reading! please read and review, it always means so much to me, and i love to reply to them because i think if you take the time to review i should take the time to reply and tell you how much it improves my day! =D so, again, read and review, and thank you so so so much!**


	9. A Gift From Imperial Command

**Chapter 9 – A Gift From Imperial Command**

* * *

Dorthea trembled as the doors before them were pushed open by the accompanying guard of Klingons. Kirk had to grab her wrist and drag her along with him to make her move any further, and even then she stumbled in reluctance. The environment surrounding them didn't encourage her, either. Gloomy and intimidating, dust swirled in the rays of light that shown down from the ceiling. A red glow emanated from the Klingon insignia embedded in the wall. Along the walls stood thirteen Klingons, separated by a gigantic throne, glaring at the new arrivals with suspicion equal to that of the previous group. Underneath the insignia and seated comfortably in the throne was the biggest of them all: the Chancellor. Dorthea felt as if his scrutinizing gaze melted her insides on the spot and she scrunched her shoulders up to refrain from spilling all over the floor, scooting back in line with her fellows.

"_naDev ghoS_," the Chancellor grunted.

Kirk immediately turned to Dorthea for translation, but her mouth seemed to be glued shut with fear. She strained her jaw open only to result in it snapping shut again. Luckily, GhojmeH Taj saved her.

"Step forward." He spoke loudly, letting the entire Council know that they spoke English.

"What do we do?" McCoy whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Dorthea. The desperation in his tone snapped her back to reality. She quickly searched the Chancellor's mind for the right way to proceed.

"Introduce us," she instructed Kirk.

"I am Captain James T. Kirk," he spoke clearly and kept his eyes locked on their leader's, showing due respect so the Council wouldn't feel threatened. "This is my crew. We belong to the _USS Enterprise_ of Starfleet."

The Chancellor listened intently as the Klingon next to him translated, and then a broad grin spread across his face.

"_nuqneH, qaleghneS_." He spread his arms wide in welcome.

"Greetings," Dorthea repeated. "I am honored to see you."

The team traded astonished looks.

"He knows what we're here for," she added as an afterthought.

"We were sent without direction," Kirk continued. "Your team brought us here; we hope that you know what our task is?"

Again, the man to the Chancellor's left translated their words in his ear.

"_HIja'_." He stood to his full height, towering over them all. "_HIghoS_."

"Yes, come."

The landing party followed the Chancellor out into a smaller chamber off the hall, joined by the translator. While they walked, Dorthea flipped through his thoughts, looking for any additional information.

"The translator is Ghogh HablI'; the Chancellor's name is GhetwI'. He's newly appointed, only a couple months old."

"Impossible," Spock stated. "We would have been informed of the change."

Dorthea frowned but didn't say anything in response. Arguing with Spock would be… futile. GhetwI' came to a sudden halt at the end of the chamber, before a large, heavily bolted door.

"_maH 'oH Quch Daq vum tlhej Starfleet wa' latlh_."

"We are happy to work with Starfleet once more," Dorthea mumbled.

"Likewise," Kirk bowed his head in respect and Ghogh HablI' immediately translated. GhetwI''s smile expanded.

GhetwI' pulled a large key from his parka-like coat and slid it in the numerous bolts on the door; Dorthea swiftly counted fifteen. Sliding the metal rods from their spots, he yanked open the foot-thick door with much protest of the hinges. Darkness ruled inside the second chamber, so thick that she could feel it, stretching out its suffocating fingers to suck her in.

"_jaH Daq_."

"Go in," Dorthea stated nervously. Her stomach flipped with unexpected fear.

"What is this?" Kirk demanded, apparently also affected by the uneasiness that spread through Dorthea's body. She noticed Spock rest his hand lightly on the phaser hooked to his belt out of the corner of her eye.

"_'oH ghaH poQta' vo' Hoch Daq jaH Daq_."

"It's required of everyone to proceed." It didn't matter what the Chancellor said, or how brightly he said it, Dorthea still eyed the darkness apprehensively.

"And we _will_ proceed?" Kirk checked doubtfully.

"_HIja'_."

"Yes."

Kirk moved to step in, but someone's hand flung out to stop him. Spock's.

"With all due respect, Captain," he began, eyes burning in protest. "I do not believe this will be the wisest decision."

"Kirk, he's right," Dorthea murmured, soft enough to escape the Klingons' ears. "I don't like this."

"Can't you tell if it's a trap?" McCoy reminded her.

"I…" she focused as hard as she could on both GhetwI''s thoughts and Ghogh HablI''s. "I can't find anything suggesting it is…. But still. I'm not perfect."

"Either way, we're not getting back on board without whatever they—" Kirk jerked his chin over at the two Klingons "—have, so there's no point in wasting time," he hissed.

Despite the physical warnings their bodies pumped out, despite the agitation in their minds, despite the total obviousness, Kirk entered the black mass. Dorthea was sort of surprised that he didn't hit the dark and rebound back at her it was so thick. As such, he disappeared almost instantly, followed by McCoy, then Dorthea, and Spock, who insisted on being last.

"Kind of cowardly, don't you think?" she teased nervously, twisting the belt around her waist with slender fingers. She thought she could feel him tense behind her.

"I will assume that was a bad joke." By the way his voice melted from crystal to stone she knew she hadn't imagined it.

The door shut behind them almost instantly with an ominous _boom_. Metallic noises could be heard from the other side, fifteen total, signifying the locks sliding into place.

"Um… I can't see _anything_," she stated.

"I hadn't noticed," McCoy responded cynically.

Dorthea waved her hands around, searching for something that would help her position herself in the room.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Kirk. What'd I hit?"

"My jaw."

"Okay… other way then."

"I believe that my back is not what you are looking for, Miss DeVult."

"Eep! Sorry, Spock…." Dorthea felt around in the opposite direction—or what she _thought_ was the opposite direction—for about a minute more, smacking someone else in the process.

"Okay. Maybe I should just stop."

"Good," McCoy's voice grumbled from close to her left, almost directly in her ear. "You just ran into me."

"I don't even know what I'm looking for!" Dorthea whined, scooting a little bit to the right.

"Be quiet for a moment, please," Spock suddenly spoke, his voice alert.

"What?"

"He said 'shut up'!"

Dorthea pouted a little at the violence, but listened intently for whatever Spock thought he heard. A soft hissing, like air being expelled from tiny, tiny holes.

"Gas," Kirk determined confidently.

"They're gassing us?" McCoy exclaimed. "Oh, _lovely_."

"I would suggest we hold our breath."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." McCoy didn't seem to like Spock anymore in a dangerous situation than he did in a safe environment.

"I thought it smelled funky in here."

Dorthea rolled her eyes at the captain's terminology and plugged her nose with her fist.

"We can't do this forever," she managed.

After a minute of silence, the feelings of wariness intensified.

"Guys?

No answer.

"_Guys?_" Had they already been knocked out? "Spock?"

The absence of his response shook her deeply.

"Kirk? Doctor McCoy?"

"_naDev ghoS._" Another throaty voice, not any of her teammates', called to her from deep within the choking darkness.

_Step forward_. Dorthea recoiled from the demand.

"Wh-who are you?"

"_ta' ghobe' tlhob mu'mey. naDev ghoS._" _Do not ask questions_. _Step forward_. "_SoH 'oH ghobe' Daq vay' Seng_." _You are not in any danger_.

Not one thing could make her move toward this Klingon that had so obviously betrayed their trust. Not one thing. Except—

"Deedah?"

Shock ran through Dorthea's veins stronger than any experimental chemical she'd ever experienced, blowing all thoughts of the Klingons straight from her head. Her entire body tensed and then loosened upon hearing the nickname. She was right there, right in her reach….

"'liza?" she gasped breathily, her hands shaking. Her eyes struggled against the darkness, trying desperately to make out her little sister's shape.

"It's me, Deedah." The girl's soft, sweet, innocent voice lit a fire in Dorthea's brain. They had her—they had her and who _KNOWS _WHAT THEY WERE DOING TO HER!

"'liza, I'm getting you out of here," Dorthea swore. "I promise you on my _life_ I will get you back."

"Deedah, they won't let me go…."

"I will _make _them!" She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth.

"You can't…."

"I _can_ and I _will._"

A moment of near silence, where only Eliza's harsh, shallow breathing punctured Dorthea's ears.

"Deedah, will you hold my hand? I'm scared."

The fear soaking Eliza's tone ripped Dorthea from her fury. "Of course, 'liza. Of course. Where are you? I can't see."

"I'll help you, Deedah. Just walk to my voice."

"I… I can't tell…." Dorthea began to panic, hyperventilating. "Your voice is _everywhere_."

Another second of quiet.

"Here, take my hand. We'll get out of here together."

Dorthea instantly felt Eliza's hand in hers and calmed. It was cold. Not clammy, just cold.

"Are you okay?" Dorthea whispered. "Your skin is cold."

"Well, it _is_ cold in here," Eliza joked, laughter coloring her words.

Dorthea giggled anxiously. So like her sister, always making jokes. Then she noticed her feet were moving, walking forward.

"Where are we going?" she inquired softly, so as to avoid startling Eliza.

"We're leaving, remember?"

Dorthea nodded her head. "Oh, yeah." She paused. "How d'you know how to get out?"

Eliza didn't answer.

"'liza?" Terror gripped her throat. "Eliza?" They couldn't have taken her back, they just couldn't…. Not again. They can't have her. They can't take her _away!_

"Eliza!" Dorthea started running, full out running, searching frantically for her sister. "_ELIZA!_"

A searing pain throbbed at the very top of her skull, the product of the fear of losing something so important.

"_E-LI-ZA!_" Dorthea sobbed, enunciating every syllable. "_ELIZA!_"

The pain spread like tire spokes, pulsing angrily at the vertex. It drilled agonizingly down into her brain, crumpling her to the icy hard floor.

"Eli—" she choked and gasped, wrapping her arms around her chest. She lost the ability to speak as the pain spread to every part of her body, rendering her completely incapable of moving. Wracking sobs ripped through her chest, doubled in strength by the searing in her skull. She lay curled into a ball on the ground, weeping and rocking back and forth, unable to think of any way to ease the torture. Minutes disguised as hours passed with Dorthea still contorted in the fetal position, and as they passed, the pain seemed to let up. The less it became, the more she relaxed. Her body slowly unraveled out of its ball, spread-eagled on the floor, chest heaving. Soon after dissipating, it disappeared all together. The darkness seeped back from her eyes like she was moving backwards in a tunnel. Light replaced the black, swelling first at the corners of her eyes and then stretching forward until the darkness was a pinprick in the distance, and then completely gone.

She blinked and looked around, a difficult task as her head felt like a million and one pounds.

Five pairs of eyes fixated on her, all relatively familiar. None of them 'liza's pretty sea-green.

The Klingons', empty of emotion for her pain. Kirk's, sky blue and wide with concern at watching one of his teammates being tortured. Doctor McCoy's hazel-green, slightly disgusted. Spock's deep, chestnut brown, as always, unfathomable. It was his hand that held Dorthea's. She glanced down at his pale fingers and, disgusted and ashamed of herself, yanked it away. Figuring out what had happened didn't take more than a few seconds. The Klingons had tricked her into thinking Eliza was there in order to delve into her brain and decide if she hid anything. Why Spock would hold her hand, though, stumped Dorthea. Not holding her hand, but why _Spock_. Because he was closest. That made the most sense. The _only_ sense.

Dorthea lifted her hand to weakly brush the top of her head. Just a tiny mark, the thickness of a needle. She looked away from those curious eyes of her team, flushing silver. She'd given in. She'd be kicked off the _Enterprise_ for sure when they returned. Or maybe they wouldn't wait; maybe they'd leave her on Qo'noS.

"Why were you saying your own name?" Kirk spoke first.

The silver in her cheeks spread over her entire face. "I don't know," she mumbled, effectively ending the short-lived conversation. The landing party stood up, all relatively awkward. Spock and Kirk had to assist Dorthea in getting to her feet, for she wobbled precariously with any weight on her legs. She kept her arm draped lightly across Kirk's shoulders and he locked his own around her waist, supporting her as they walked into the next hall.

"No more _procedures_, I hope," Kirk snarled to the Klingons.

"_ghobe'_," GhetwI' laughed brightly, seemingly oblivious to the tension that surrounded him.

"No," Dorthea sighed. Mental invasions were extremely exhausting.

In the quiet that followed, Spock furtively brushed his fingertips along the back of Dorthea's hand. Startled, she stared up at him. He gazed blankly ahead without meeting her eyes. It took her a minute to get the hint, but when she did she eagerly—yet with some restraint—probed into his head.

_Who is Eliza?_ The way he thought it made Dorthea certain he knew she was present in his mind, and _extra_ certain that he knew she wasn't Eliza.

When Dorthea purposely glared down at the ground, another of his thoughts crossed her head.

_I would like to perform a mind meld with you when we return, if that would be acceptable_.

_NO!_ Dorthea thought the word as hard and loud as she could, disregarding the fact that he couldn't hear her. That was it; she was caught. She was in trouble. _Eliza_ was in trouble.

Abruptly enough to shake Dorthea from her internal terrified rant, the Klingons fell to a halt in front of a rusted steel door.

"_jIH Har vam ghaH nuq SoH 'oH leghtaH vaD_." GhetwI' smiled a somewhat scarily toothy grin and swung the door open.

"I believe this is what you are looking for," Dorthea translated wearily. Speaking sapped her of all her strength and she slumped in Kirk's arms, blinking furiously to keep herself awake.

"Spock," Kirk spoke demandingly. "Take her."

"Yes, Captain."

Kirk held Dorthea's body out to Spock somewhat clumsily and, like in the bridge a week ago, the half-Vulcan swept her up in his arms in a infantile cradle, considerably more graceful than Kirk. She let her head droop backward, the attempt to stay conscious failing miserably.

"McCoy, get over here and help me with this."

Curiosity raged in her and she strained to lift her eyelids to see what was so heavy that Kirk needed assistance. The scene before her blurred and swam the harder she pushed her eyes to see, so she gave up, going limp and allowing the dark behind her eyelids to take her away.

* * *

**A/N: yay! i'm so excited about this chapter and i don't know why! lol. okay, so all the Klingon sentences are REALLY LOOSE translations cuz the dictionary i used wasn't full so i had to keep using synonyms for everything. =p but if anyone is wondering where i got the translations and stuff because i know a lot of people are looking for it and i was SO psyched to find it, just message me OR review =D and ask and i'll send you the links! so, let me know what you think! =D please read and review, it lights my world!**

**p.s... i'm REALLY REALLY sorry for this if some of you like the title, but i just realized that the title has nothing to do with what i'm writing and i'm changing it to Everlong (plus, that title goes SO much better with the soundtrack i'm making for it ;) but that's all i'll say). I won't do it for a while so people know what's going on and aren't like, WHAT THE HECK? but yeah, just a heads up.**

**p.p.s... so, i thought the translator's name was really funny when i decided the names for all the Klingons and i'm assuming most of you don't speak Klingon, so i'll put just put ALL the names and their translations up here! =D  
--****_GhetwI': pretender  
_--_GhojmeH Taj: boy's first knife  
--GhubDaQ: first born  
--Ghogh HablI': telephone _**(there WAS a word for translator, but that's too obvious and i wanted it to be telephone because he acts like a telephone to me. =p yeah, i'm weird....)

**okay. enough of that. read and review, please and thank you! =p**


	10. Step 1: Starting Hands

**Chapter 10 – Step 1: Starting Hands**

* * *

_The first thing you must learn in Texas Hold'em is which starting hands are good and which ones should be folded preflop. Although the answer depends on the number of people in the game and the type of game, here is a general guide to use when you are just starting out and want to win at low limits. I suggest starting at a fixed limit of $1-$2 or lower._

* * *

The knowledge that she'd slept for two straight days provided enough guilt for Dorthea to hop out of bed, shower, and dress appropriately enough to head to the bridge at 1 A.M.—just a white t-shirt and black sweats. While she didn't intend to work, and hoped Kirk wouldn't make her, she still moved rather quickly. So quickly, in fact, that her hands still fiddled with the high ponytail she tried to fit her long hair into when she stepped through the doors.

"Hey, look! It's sleepy! Where are the rest of the dwarves?" Kirk jabbed from the center of the room, not looking up once from the two red and white poker cards in his hand.

Right on cue, Dorthea let out a bearlike yawn. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms and shuffled blindly to the table that her fellows had all positioned themselves around.

"You guys aren't mad at me?" she mumbled somewhat incoherently, yawning again so big that her jaw popped. Showers never woke her, as they were apparently supposed to; the steam and heat just made exhaustion worse.

"Yes," the captain remarked blandly. "No one should sleep so much. You're fired. Get out of my sight."

"Not about that." The words sounded like a whine and she abruptly straightened her posture to negate it. "About giving in. The Klingons? They could've found out… stuff. About the _Enterprise_."

The blonde barked a laugh. "Are you kidding me? DeVult, you don't know enough stuff _about_ the _Enterprise_ to need damage-control."

Silver flooded Dorthea's cheeks.

"I would suggest relaxing, Miss DeVult," Spock continued Kirk's failed attempt at comfort, much more effectively. "No harm was committed by your actions. Each of us were subjected to the same method."

She took that as Spock's way of saying "no harm, no foul".

"You were?" Her eyes widened and her bottom lip pouted. "How come you weren't all squirmy and sleepy then?"

"They nearly overdosed you with painkillers," Bones explained bitterly, slapping his cards down on the table and folding his arms. "If you weren't sleeping for two days you'd be a medical anomaly."

Dorthea pulled up a chair between Kirk and Spock and rested her chin on the table, watching Uhura toss in three blue chips and stick her tongue out at Kirk, who mirrored her expression.

"Well they didn't work," she scowled, absentmindedly stroking her fingers over where the needle had punctured her skin.

"Duh," Kirk muttered, staring with a furrowed brow at his hand, then at the communal hand. "'Cause you… oh crap… um, I don't remember… call." He added in three chips of his own to the pot.

"It appeared that the sedative allowed you to think clearer, or at least oppose their advances more effectively," Spock explained, also calling. "They had to remove it from your bloodstream and restart the process. Pain weakens mental defense considerably." He lay down a straight flush, fanning out the cards apathetically. "As such, I assume the struggle your mind endured is the reason for your exhaustion. Not the anesthetic."

"Oh, 'cause you're the doctor here," Bones growled under his breath.

"Fuck you, Spock!" Kirk slammed his hand down on the table and the subject of his sentence lifted an eyebrow. "How do you _always_ do that? How do you _always_ get the good hand?"

"Just a little luck, Captain," Dorthea explained before Spock could jump into statistics. "And you've got to have a strategy."

"Well! Since you think you're so high and mighty—"

"Look who's talking," Uhura teased.

Kirk gave her a playful sneer and redirected his attention to Dorthea. "_Like I was saying_, before so _rudely_ interrupted… since _you're_ so high and mighty, why don't _you_ play?"

A satisfied grin flashed across Dorthea's lips, revealing the first full smile she'd shown on the ship. "Don't mind if I do. Hand me the cards."

"You heard the woman! Girl! Wo—" Kirk leaned low, like he didn't want anyone to see, though his voice didn't soften. "How old are you, anyway?"

"In Earth years?" Dorthea did the math—for what she knew, anyway. "A couple months less than twenty-one."

"You heard the woman! Hand her the cards!"

Spock constructed a neat pile of the fifty-two cards and slid the deck to the left, placing them directly in front of her. Dorthea gathered it into her hands and cut it in half. First, the usual drills. The riffle-cascade shuffle, and then the table riffle shuffle (the one that Spock used). She fell easily into the procession she devised in her adolescent years of I'm-so-bored-there's-nothing-to-do-but-play-solitaire-and-shuffle-cards rebellion. Plus, the showy false shuffling she put on messed amusingly with Kirk's confidence. She played a little with the cards, enjoying the amazement that stunned his inner workings to a great extent. From the table riffle she floated smoothly into the Russian shuffle, then the Waterfall. She spread fifty-one cards into a ribbon fan and rimmed them all with the fifty-second, a wave. After sweeping them into a perfect deck again, she repeated the Hindu shuffle twice, the Weave, and finished by dealing two cards out to each player.

"Wow," Uhura breathed, dropping her hand lightly on her cards.

Despite the jumbled tangle of thoughts in Kirk's head, he brushed over it easily on the outside, keeping faultless composure.

"No fair! You're a card sharp!"

Dorthea winked and flipped out the three beginning communal cards.

"I was not aware that the Mari people enjoyed this form of entertainment," Spock observed, barely looking at his cards.

"Ah…" Dorthea scanned her own and then threw in one red and two white chips. "Raise seven. They don't. When I was… eight, I think, in your terms… my dad visited from Earth and taught me an—how to play poker." She quickly brushed off her mistake, hoping no one would notice. Fortunately, it was so swift most didn't. Of course, _Spock_ would. His eyes flashed but instantly returned to normal.

"Cheater," Kirk mumbled under his breath.

Dorthea allowed his comment to slide, because she never cheated. There was no need to defend herself. Besides, she felt safe with cards in her hand. Nothing could touch her. This was _her_ spacecraft. That feeling of confidence and empowerment carried her through three successful games.

"_No!_" Kirk whined, slamming his forehead on the table as Dorthea again added the pot to her magnificent pile.

"I quit!" Bones tossed his cards onto the table. "I quit! There's no point in playing anymore."

"Aye," Scotty agreed, sliding his chair back and running into a sleeping Tribble. "A—hey! Wake up, ya lousy prune!"

"Me too," Kirk sighed. "I can't afford to lose so much."

"Even though we don't play for money," Uhura teased.

Embarrassment tinted Dorthea's cheeks with silver and she withdrew into the shell that playing cards brought her out of.

"No, I'll go. I'm tired anyway," she offered, looking at the ground as she spoke, pushing away from the table.

"Tired?" Uhura said doubtfully. "You just slept for two days." A rare smile played with her lips and Dorthea nearly blanched.

"Um…" It took her a minute to think through Uhura's sudden behavioral shift toward her. "Yeah… sleeping a lot makes me tired…."

"Freak," Kirk commented while Bones collected all the chips and situated them neatly in the velvet interior of a long, metal case.

"Seriously, I'll leave so you can play," Dorthea repeated her suggestion, moving to push her chair back in.

Kirk shook his head. "No, you stay." She immediately sat back down, gazing up at him with puppy-dog eyes. "We're all beat anyway."

"Well… what do you want me to do? Everyone's leaving."

"Spock's not," he informed her, gesturing to the man sitting patiently next to Dorthea. "Play doubles solitaire. He loves it."

Spock opened his mouth, undoubtedly to correct his captain, but he cut him off.

"G'night, y'all." Kirk bowed, removing an imaginary hat and flourishing his hand exaggeratingly.

After Kirk left, Scotty followed, arguing with the Tribble about something or other, and then Bones, once all the chips were in their rightful places and the case locked securely. Uhura's eyes were only for Spock. Dorthea stood up from the table after hearing her thoughts, giving them some privacy. She wandered over to the captain's chair, hands clasped behind her back much like Spock's, but considerably less rigid. She skipped onto the platform and, hesitating for just a moment, settled down into the empty blue chair. Draping her arms along the armrests, she wiggled to find a comfortable place and tilted her head back, closing her eyes.

"I do not think Captain Kirk would be very pleased with you if he found out you were in his chair." Crystal clear, the tone rang sharply through Dorthea's head after a few minutes of peaceful quiet.

Opening her eyes and rolling her head to the left, she saw Spock standing inches to the left of the chair, head tilted and eyebrow lifted.

"Really?" she moaned softly. "It's so comfortable, though."

"I have no doubt," he said, referring to Kirk's reaction. The other eyebrow elevated.

"Okay, okay." Dorthea clambered reluctantly from the seat.

Her stomach dropped when she slid on the edge of the step, sending her crashing to her bottom. The surprise stole her voice, causing choppy vowel sounds to be the only sentences she could muster. Finally—

"Ow," she mumbled, shocked, looking dazedly up at Spock.

He blinked a couple times and his lips twitched upward at the corners. It didn't matter what promise she'd made to him, she wanted so badly to hear what he was thinking about her fall. She wanted to know what made him smile. It was such a rare thing.

He extended his hand to her and when she recovered from her stunned trance she accepted it, letting him pull her to her feet. His cool skin did strange things to hers, making it burn even hotter on contact.

"Did you want to play solitaire, then?" she asked, letting her hand linger for just a moment before dropping it to her side.

"The idea is most tempting," he confessed. "But I must admit, I am curious as to whether or not you recall my previous request."

Dorthea blinked. "Wha—oh…. Um, yeah. No, I don't think that's a good idea." Without waiting for his response, she walked briskly to the door in hopes of escaping. His smooth footsteps followed her out, and faster than she would've thought, she could see his blue science uniform out the corner of her eye.

"Have you been informed of the Vulcan mind meld previously?" Spock-talk: _Do you even know what it is?_ He was determined.

"No," Dorthea said. "But it sounds pretty invasive and I don't want someone being invasive in _my_ mind."

"Hypocrite," Spock stated nonchalantly.

Her legs couldn't decide whether to lock in protest or to walk faster, and compromised by tightening every muscle in her lower half to create a stiff-legged sort of march.

"I'm not a hypocrite," she argued through gritted teeth, focusing on relaxing her stride.

"Hypocrite: somebody who pretends to have admirable principles, beliefs, or feelings but behaves otherwise," he cited, probably directly from a dictionary.

"Well…" she fumbled over her tongue while trying to explain to him how the situations were different. "My mind isn't… it's not as weird… no, that's not the right word… maybe it is… no! My mind isn't as unusual as yours. You're a psychological anomaly. I think. No one I've ever encountered has the mental structure your mind has, anyway. It's my _duty_ to inspect it."

"As is mine to _you_."

"How?"

She felt him stop before she saw it.

"You are concealing something."

Spinning on her heel, she glared at him with clenched fists. He stood erectly three feet behind her since she hadn't stopped walking when he did, and his hands were held behind his back. He rose his chin slightly, encouraging her to speak.

"I'm not hiding anything."

"Then please explain why you spoke your own name on Qo'noS."

Of course, she couldn't do that. Spock stepped closer to her, the expression in his eyes fierce.

"You are not Eliza DeVult."

Could he tell the way her heart sped when he called her on the lie? How her lungs stuttered in their work and fell out of the normal rhythm of _inhale…exhale…_ and into _inhaleexhaleinhaleexhale_. Did he see how keeping her eyes moist enough so that she didn't blink and expose herself and her sister burned, and how her brain coughed out the first answer that came to it?

"You can't prove it." _Oh, terrific job, Dorthea. You just told him he was right!_

"It would be in your best interests to comply willingly," Spock advised, lifting his hand.

"Please, no!" Her voice broke under her breath, hitching desperately as she cowered against the wall. "Please. I can't… just, please."

His hand halted just inches from her face, mahogany eyes burning with unexpected emotion. Dorthea ducked under his arm and ran ten feet before facing him again.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Please, don't be mad at me."

He didn't look her way, instead remaining completely still, like time had frozen just around him.

Dorthea left him after a minute of tortured indecision, making her way shakily to her quarters. Sliding down the steel doors, she didn't move from the floor for at least three hours, staring into the blank darkness.

* * *

**A/N: hey! sorry it took so long, and sorry it ends so abruptly, but i had to finish it in seriously five minutes to go celebrate father's day. =p i hope you guys like it! it's not my favorite chapter, but what can you do? =p well, that's it, i guess! read and review please!!! =D**

**i knew i forgot something! =p okay. that quote up top, and the rest of the quotes i'll be posting are all from pokertips . org, i believe. =) gotsta hand out due credit.**


	11. Step 2: Pot Odds

**Chapter 11 – Step 2: Pot Odds**

* * *

_When you see a flop, you will generally be in one of three situations._

_Situation #1: Your hand totally misses the board. You have nothing, so you should check and fold. Another possibility is to bluff._

_Situation #2: You hit the flop well and hold a strong hand. In these situations, you should generally bet or raise._

_Situation #3: You have a drawing hand. The third possibility is that you currently do not hold a strong hand, but it is possible for you to make a strong if the turn or river brings you a good card. This situation is known as "drawing."_

* * *

It was still dark out, but her watch read 6:30 A.M.

The blankets wrapped around her body like a soft, warm cocoon, and the sudden rush of cool air when she swung her legs out of them stung.

The floor was scratchy, leaving red marks on the bottom of her feet as she walked to the bathroom.

Searing hot beads of water warmed her body temperature and lowered her lids, fighting her struggle against fatigue on the wrong side.

The mint of the toothpaste felt acidic on her tongue.

Her dress slid smoothly on over her body with a liquid sort of sensation, as did the smooth material of her boots.

The _whish_ from the door was barely discernable anymore.

The lights from the _Enterprise_ blinded her as her feet carried her automatically to the bridge.

* * *

Dorthea took the turbolift today, hoping for a change. Her morning had gone by in such monotonous catatonia, having passed the night sleeplessly, that she couldn't even remember climbing on the lift. The feeling of her body being pushed toward the ground as it zoomed upward woke her brain, if not her body. She shook her head out, getting slapped multiple times in the face by her hair.

When the doors opened, the cheerful buzzing of a well-rested crew squeezed a throbbing headache around her head like a rubber band, but she couldn't be so sure it wasn't the hole in the top of her skull. Or the short bout of insomnia. Whatever.

"Of all that is holy," Kirk commented loudly when she passed, rubbing her temples. "What the hell happened to _you?_"

She saw her face in his head: puffy red eyes, pallid skin, purple circles under her lids, and her index and middle fingers determinedly massaging the sides of her head.

"Didn't sleep," she grumbled, sitting down in her chair at the Communications panel.

He trailed behind, sipping from a white mug, and rested on the wall next to her, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Why?"

_Why? WHY? I'll tell you WHY! Because your stupid FIRST OFFICER made me have insomnia! Because I'm going to get CAUGHT! Because he KNOWS I'm not Eliza! BECAUSE I FUCKING COULDN'T SLEEP! THAT'S WHY!_

The sudden violence in her thoughts struck her like a brick. Either the presence of humans had some sort of effect on her, or the wall in her head was weaker than she suspected. The cause didn't matter; she shivered and cringed inwardly, away from the words, shoving them into a safe, locking it in a closet, shrinking the closet, feeding it to a shark, chopping up the shark, and burying it in the dirt. Far, far, far below the surface. So it melted into nothing.

Dorthea relaxed her tensed features and smiled with genuine kindness at him, no matter how much it hurt her cheeks to smile.

"I don't know," she lied adequately.

"Are you sick?"

"I don't think so."

"Maybe you should go see Bones, he could—"

"I'm sure I'm not sick," she interrupted.

"Well, I was _going_ to say maybe he could give you something to make you sleep. How come I keep getting cut off?" Kirk downed his beverage and slammed the mug on the desk. "I'm Captain! It should be prohibited to cut me off! In fact, that's a new rule! The next person that interrupts me will be subjected to the Chinese Water Torture!" He stomped his foot for emphasis.

"I apologize, Captain," Dorthea bowed her head.

He glared with faux sincerity, as if considering her regret. She peered up at him, widening her eyes in pleading innocence. His fiery eyes melted.

"Gah! Not the puppy-dog eyes! _No!_ I _hate_ those!" He cupped his hand over his eyes and turned away.

She held her expression until he peeked through his fingers.

"Ahhh, no fair! You look so sick and helpless!" After a second he dropped his hand and a groan rumbled from his throat. He slid down the wall and landed neatly on the floor, wrists resting on his knees. "Fine," he growled. "But don't think you'll get away with it again!" He shook his finger at her. "I won't be toyed with!"

Dorthea laughed, glad that the captain could cheer her up. "Never again," she promised, throwing in a resolute nod for good measure.

"Good." Kirk pushed himself with his hands up to his feet and brushed off the butt of his pants. "Now, seriously, go see Bones. He'll give you some sleeping stuff and help you get through the day _conscious_. You really do look like shit on ice."

"Thanks," she frowned, turning to the panel and running quickly through all the races she'd memorized again. "I assure you, I'm perfectly fine. Just a little tired. But thanks for the offer."

"Petty Officer Eliza DeVult, get your half-Mari ass _down_ to B—"

"Captain." The clear voice sent a shock that chilled Dorthea down to her bones. "I would like to consult with you about the… object… we acquired from the Klingons."

"Arg!" Kirk whipped around and glowered at Spock. "Chinese Water Torture! Now! Off you go!" With one hand he pointed out the doors and with the other he waved Spock away. "Go!"

Spock's brow furrowed. "I am unsure of what you mean, Captain."

"I think I will go down to sickbay after all," Dorthea murmured as quietly as she possibly could so that when she returned and Kirk yelled at her she could say she told Kirk of her whereabouts and not be lying. Making herself as small and unnoticeable as physically achievable, Dorthea snuck away from the deranged captain and his bewildered First Officer, dashing into the turbolift and jamming the button down to sickbay.

She wandered aimlessly before actually heading to the ward, wasting time before she got sent back up to the bridge. Spock didn't make her list of people she wanted to see at the moment. Eventually the headache grew to the point of a migraine and she forced herself to go see Doctor McCoy. He was bent over a desk in his chair when she arrived, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper. She knocked softly on the wall and leaned against it.

"Hello?"

McCoy scribbled faster. "Hold on just one second." He finished with a flourish, threw the pencil down in triumph, and spun in his chair to face her.

"Oh." He frowned. "It's you again."

"Yeah, it's me again." Dorthea ducked her head, keeping her eye level low. "Sorry."

"All right," he sighed resignedly. "What's wrong with you?"

Dorthea picked up a second implication under the words but ignored it, choosing to avoid his thoughts to avoid the violence that must've surged through it. It wasn't hard to build up a blockage; the headache already did that for her.

"Um… Kirk sent me down here," she began. "I didn't sleep last night, I have a migraine, and apparently I look like 'shit on ice'. I'm fine. He's stubborn."

"Don't I know it," McCoy grumbled, and from the volume of his voice Dorthea suspected he wasn't speaking for her benefit. "That it?" he clarified, raising his volume.

"Yup."

"Well, the migraine's from lack of sleep. So…." He rolled over and rifled through a cabinet stocked with boxes and jars of different medicines. Picking out a large see-through jar, he poured an orange pill bottle full of the tiny turquoise capsules, scrawled some information on a label that he then stuck on the bottle, and tossed it to her. "Take two of those with water, you'll go straight to sleep for about five hours. Any more than that and you're screwed. But you can take more every four hours."

"Can't you give me a shot or something?" Dorthea hated swallowing pills. She much preferred needles.

"So you can pass out right here?"

"Oh." She bit her lip. "Never mind."

"Okay. You can go now."

"Okay."

It took her a second, and then she jumped around like she'd been electrocuted, ramming into an examination table.

"Oh, ow…." She clutched the bruising section of her hip, screwing up her eyes when the wave of oncoming pain flashed through her from the offending area to the tips of her ears.

"You know what?" McCoy stared at her like she'd just told him that she talked to fairies. "Why don't you go to your quarters? It's much safer for all of us if you've slept…."

She nodded in agreement and hobbled out of sickbay, wincing and yelping "ow" every time she stepped with her right foot.

Once inside the quiet darkness of her room, Dorthea couldn't help but yearn for the sleep that pressed down on her body. She shook two of the tablets from the bottle and gulped them down with a mouthful of tap water from the bathroom faucet. McCoy's description, however blunt it had been, was accurate. The effects immediately fogged her brain, making it a difficult task just to undress enough to haul herself into bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out.

* * *

She'd woken up once, when the medicine wore off, just to pop a single pill in and down it quickly. It took a little longer—maybe five minutes—before she drifted off again for another three hours. But the first time she'd opened her eyes, there hadn't been a slim figure sitting in the chair next to her bed, but she might've just been too sleepy to notice. The second time, Dorthea shrieked and fell off the mattress on the opposite side. Aside from the new ache in her already-broken wrist, she felt much, _much_ better. Even the migraine had subsided, as McCoy said.

Cowering in the minuscule corner made between her bed and the wall, she pulled the blankets over her half-naked body and stared up at the shadowed intruder with horror. So befuddled with panic, she couldn't remember how to turn on the lights.

"Wh-wh-who…?"

"Relax," Spock said, calming her heart rate instantly.

She froze.

"May I ask what you are doing in my bedroom while I'm sleeping?" she inquired, keeping her tone light and detached, _still_ not achieving the level of perfect clarity he had.

"Merely following orders given to me by Captain Kirk."

"He ordered you to watch me sleep?" she contended tonelessly.

"Yes and no. He ordered me to discover your whereabouts after you didn't return to the bridge."

"Well?" Dorthea snapped, surprised at the anger in her voice. This time, she was powerless to lock it away. And she didn't want to. This was sick and wrong. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you to wake."

"I'm awake. Now get out."

He hesitated, seemingly at a loss for words. If she hadn't been so irritated, she would've been astonished.

"I find that… I must ask you a… question. It has been… bothering me… since our previous encounter."

Narrowing her eyes, Dorthea frowned.

"Can I get dressed first?" she asked reluctantly.

Spock's face, which had slowly come into focus as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, tinted green and disappeared from the edge of the bed. She heard the springs' protests as he moved from the mattress to his chair and stood up, wrapping the comforter around her like a towel. Quickly, to save herself and Spock from further embarrassment, Dorthea slid into her uniform (somehow managing this without dropping the blanket) and sat back on the bed. Figuring that light—even the soft glow from her bedroom lights—would only hurt her eyes, she left it dark.

"What was your question?" she mumbled shyly. Even if she was capable of feeling anger, it didn't last long. Her chemical makeup didn't allow for it.

"You've said twice now that my mind is different from others," he started, the awkwardness that had laced his tone was now absent. "I would like to know how. Is it some… protrusion? Or a chemical imbalance? Or—"

"No," Dorthea corrected. He was already way off. "Your mind, not your head. Your _mind_."

"There is a difference?"

How odd it felt to be explaining something to _Spock_. Topsy-turvy world. The worst part though was that she didn't know _how_ to explain it.

"Mari, I guess… _see_, or hear, I don't know… things differently. Your physical head—your brain and whatnot—and your mind are totally different entities. Not possible for someone to imagine unless they've seen it themselves. Like an eighth color."

Spock nodded comprehendingly. "And what is wrong with mine?"

To her intense amazement, Dorthea was offended. Like assuming that something so great and pure and completely _wonderful_ was _wrong_ was the ultimate, universal insult. Disgusting.

"Nothing is _wrong_ with it," she snarled, anger seeping through her again, only to dissipate as quickly as it arrived. "It's beautiful and intricate and silky and just… _perfect_." Her words were almost an awed sigh. She could almost _hear_ his eyebrow pop up to his hairline.

"Silky?"

"Yes," she blushed. "Silky. The threads of thought… they're silky. I guess. That's the best way to put it."

He nodded again and turned his attention to another aspect. Regrettably, Spock had noticed how defensive she became.

"You regard it with illogical reverence," he observed.

"Of course it's illogical. It's never happened before! Everything _about_ it is illogical!" she exclaimed with an almost psychotic passion. "But… everything about it is so _right_, and it makes absolutely _no_ sense and all the sense in the _universe_ at the same time." Again, Dorthea fell onto her hands and knees and crawled over to him, desire taking over her body motions. In the back of her head she protested, but her hand lifted again and sculpted itself around his cheek, a little harsher this time as the curiosity raged stronger. She knew it was wrong, she knew she should go hide in her closet… but she physically couldn't. She had no more control.

"You want to inspect it again." His sentence wasn't a question.

Dorthea nodded vigorously. "Very much."

"You may," he allowed.

She waited on tenterhooks, feeling the catch creeping up.

"But you must give me one thing first."

"Anything." Her brain hadn't confirmed the reply. Her tongue shaped it and pushed it out with a gasp of breath before she could stop it.

"Permit me to perform a mind meld."

A war broke out between Dorthea's body and her mind. Her skin heated, temperature rising, and her stomach seized.

"Not—" she choked out.

"If you wish, you may remain in contact with my mind during the meld."

His eyes burned deep scars in her head, permanently sealing the image of their fiery determination away for later.

"Um…"

* * *

**A/N: YES! TWO IN ONE DAY! lol. okay. i like this chapter SO much better than the previous one. it wasn't as forced. woo hoo! i read this somewhere on someone's profile... i'll look it up again later. something to the effects of writing slow meant you were pushing the words; writing fast meant you were being pulled _by_ the words. so true. whoever's profile that is! if you read this, send me your name and i'll put it up! =D anyway... hope you enjoy! as always, read and review! taylor-v out!**

***above quote and title from pokertips . org / strategy / pot-odds . php**


	12. Step 3: Deception

**Chapter 12 – Step 3: Deception**

* * *

_Poker is not just a mathematical game. It is also a game that entails a lot of psychological combat._

* * *

_"'liza!" A seven-year-old Dorthea's voice rang happily down the stairs and she rushed into her little sister, snatching up her hand and dragging her out the door. "Come outside, 'liza! Look at the rain!"_

_Eliza let out an amused laugh, having been the more mature sibling in that relationship. She watched from the porch as Dorthea stomped in the puddles that swelled in the street, splashing muddy water all over her new jeans while her hair gradually flattened and darkened from the water falling in droplets out of the sky._

_"Daddy will be angry with you, Deedah!" Eliza called, and though her words were reprimanding a smile spread across her cheeks. "You're getting your new clothes dirty!"_

_"Oh, you're no fun, 'liza," Dorthea pouted, her fun squashed. Rather than jumping like before, she kicked the water, shoving her hands into her pockets with a downcast look on her face._

_"Well, Daddy's Earth-friends are coming tonight, 'member? We got to stay clean!"_

_"I'll be clean," Dorthea frowned._

_"Your pants?" Eliza challenged with a sly smile._

_Dorthea stuck her tongue out at her sister and jumped for emphasis, spraying water everywhere. "C'mon, Eliza!"_

_The blonde chewed her thumbnail for a minute, and then dashed out into the rain with Dorthea. They laughed and played, soaking each other with puddle water, dancing in the rain for what felt like hours._

_"Dorthea, Eliza!" their father's rough, low voice called their names from the front door. "What are you girls doing?"_

_Dorthea looked shamefacedly up through her sopping red bangs. "Playin'…" she mumbled._

_"You got your pretty new clothes all dirty!" He ran out into the rain, his thick black hair soaking immediately, and knelt down in front of them. "Dorthea, you know better than that."_

_"I tried to tell her!" Eliza perked._

_Dorthea's lip jutted out. "I like the rain."_

_He remained quiet for a moment._

_"You get that from your old man." And he tackled them playfully into the puddles, the girls squealing in delight, his beard leaving whisker burns on their cheeks as he showered them with kisses and rolled them around in the water._

* * *

"Um…" Present-day Dorthea couldn't breathe right. Her mind already prepared for invasion, stuffing all the memories she didn't want anyone to see back into the most obscure corners. Especially that, because it was her favorite and she didn't want it to be tainted with someone else's presence. But she didn't know what she wanted. Curiosity screamed at her. Who cared about the price she would pay if she gave in? The lure of his mind was too tempting to just ignore for something so petty. "I…."

"Would you like me to explain the procedure?" Spock offered.

Not really intending to listen, Dorthea nodded fervently. The undoubtedly lengthy explanation would give her time to think.

Spock immediately fell into describing a mind meld, the technique used, what happens, where it _originated_, for God's sake. He gave her exactly what she needed, though it helped her none.

_C'mon_, a little voice pleaded in her head. _Please? You want to! What's the big deal if he just… probes around a bit?_

_ELIZA!_ Dorthea's voice bellowed back.

_But, but, but… what about HIS mind? What about the silky? And the pretty? And the shiny? And the—_

"Miss DeVult?"

"This isn't formal," she grumbled to the covers.

"No, but you are not Eliza. And as I am not aware of your correct first name, I have no other choice but to call you by your surname. Have you arrived at a decision?"

"Yes," she stammered, and then scolded herself so fiercely that she was astonished he didn't hear it.

"What is your choice?"

_No. My choice is no. No._

"Yes." _STUPID! TAKE IT BACK!_

"Are you certain?" He must've seen the shock that crossed her expression when she'd answered.

"Yes." _NO!!!!! WHO IS IN MY HEAD? GET OUT!!!_

Raising his hand, he gently placed his fingertips at strategic points on her face—her temple, the pocket directly diagonal from her nose, and an indent in her chin—and applied a small amount of pressure. He closed his eyes.

_Don't do this_, she begged her body. _Don't let him do this. Think about Eliza. Think about your _sister_, dammit! Think about her. Think about HER. THINK! ELIZA!_ Her sister's face exploded in her mind's eye.

Dorthea ripped her face away, knocking his hand to the side and sliding off the edge of the bed from the severity of the movement. Her head and body throbbed in one sluggish moment and she curled in on herself, folding her hands over her head. It took her a couple minutes to regain composure, to reconnect her mind and body. Unfolding her body, she pushed herself onto her feet and gazed guiltily at Spock.

"Are you well?" he asked, standing up as well.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I… I can't. There's just… too much I could—I'm sorry. I can't."

She backed away as she spoke, so that when her sentence ended she bumped into the door. It slid open and she nearly fell out in her hurry to escape those intelligent brown eyes.

People still wandered in the halls, chatting animatedly and she _so_ wished she could too, so she figured it wasn't too late. She'd slept for about eight hours, enough to make up for her lost night. Eight hours after seven… around three. Dorthea bolted to the mess hall, stomach rumbling.

Only Kirk remained, but she supposed that was a good thing. The lines were closing, and she was still starving. He'd be able to open them back up for her! Without breaking stride, Dorthea started for him. He turned and caught her eye before she'd gotten half way there.

"Hey, DeVult!" he grinned. "You're awake!"

"Yeah," she said, stopping a couple feet in front of him.

"All better? Migraine gone? Sleep restored?"

Dorthea nodded and glanced over at the lines.

"Oh, yeah, right." Kirk swiveled his torso around and motioned for the lines to stay open. "Go on."

She hurried to the food.

"Hey, you haven't seen Spock, have you?" Kirk called to her once she'd grabbed a tray. "He told me about the puking. You didn't come in with him so I'm not sure if he stayed or not."

_Puking?_ she thought. _What puking?_

"Um... yeah. Yeah, he stayed. He had to shower." Dorthea didn't know where the words came from, they just sort of spit themselves out. She seemed to have some major issues with controlling her body lately. "He'll be out in—now."

Spock walked through the doors, hands clasped—as always—behind his back, chin tilted up like a surveyor. He spotted his captain and moved quickly and purposefully over to him.

"Captain," he inclined his head.

"Spock." Kirk looked befuddled at Spock's rigidity. That's not to say it wasn't _normal_, because it so was. This rigidity was… different. Somehow.

Spock pulled out a chair in the same second that Kirk did, and Dorthea froze while walking out of the line. The movements were so perfectly coordinated it stunned her for a second. She shook her head and then set the tray down at the nearest table. She'd barely taken a bite when Kirk's enraged tone yelled over to her.

"What are you doing over there?" he growled.

"Eating?" She glanced around, wondering if she'd done something wrong, taken someone's table or something.

"By yourself? What a martyr. Get over here."

"I'm not a martyr," Dorthea pouted. "I just… don't want to interrupt." 'Don't want to embarrass myself further in front of Spock' would have been more accurate. Still, she picked up her tray, shuffled reluctantly to their table, and sat down dropping her tray with a plastic sort of _clap_.

"There," Kirk said satisfactorily. "Not so hard, was it?"

"Not for you," she muttered under her breath, so low that neither of the men detected it.

"You can sit with us from now on," Kirk continued. "You sit by yourself all the time. It's pathetic."

Her shoulders dropped.

"You're so tactful," she snipped sarcastically.

"Who needs tact when you're this charming?" He lifted his eyebrow suggestively and flashed Dorthea a bright, toothy smile that, she had to admit, would've taken her breath away had she not been so uncomfortable with the present company.

Dorthea fixated on her food, leaving Kirk and Spock to talk by themselves.

After a heated debate Kirk had attempted to start on which was better, cats or dogs ("Pick one!" "I have no preference. They are both animals of which I do not have any reason to favor over another." "_Pick one!_" "No." "Pick one." "With all due respect, Captain, shut up.") they made their way back to the bridge, Dorthea rubbing her temples to block out Kirk's incessant 'pick one's. The turbolift was the literal definition of hell: being stuck in a cramped room with a consistently _yap-yap-yap_ping Jim Kirk. Dorthea noticed with a half-smile the way Spock clenched his fists, how his eyes purposefully fixed on the buttons, his jaw tightened.

"Captain," he began after stepping out of the turbolift and onto the bridge, "you seem to have an extraordinary capability to bring out the human in me."

"Good," Kirk grinned slyly, very aware of the insult intended in Spock's words. "Contrary to popular belief, you _can't_ be a computer for the rest of your life."

"Why would I want to be a computer?"

Dorthea rolled her eyes and failed to contain a chuckle.

"Nyota?"

Everyone's focus moved to Uhura. The worry in Spock's voice shook them all. If he worried, they worried tenfold.

Uhura stared at the screen and fell into her chair, her face torn between shock and devastation. He was at her side in a matter of milliseconds. Kneeling down to her level, he gazed up and locked eyes with her.

"Nyota, what has happened?"

A choked noise coughed from her throat.

"Are you ill?" Spock pressed, and in a very human gesture he squeezed her hand. "I cannot accurately take her temperature. My own is too high." Though his eyes were still on Uhura's, the words were for Kirk.

"Get Bones," Kirk commanded Dorthea, reverting from Jim Kirk to Captain Kirk at an astounding speed.

She rushed to her headset and flipped it on intercom. "Doctor McCoy, please report to the bridge _immediately_."

"I'm not sick." Uhura still stared blankly, like she could see nothing. Her voice was hoarse and cracked.

"Tell me what has happened," Spock demanded.

"Pike…." She coughed, clutching her chest, and curled into a C, touching her forehead to Spock's.

"Admiral Pike?" he urged.

All of a sudden, Uhura leaned away from him and retched. The sickening splatter of vomit made Dorthea cringe, but not as much as the ripping that came from Uhura's chest as her stomach forced everything in it back up. Spock pivoted out of the way and collected her hair from her face in the same movement. A minute too late, McCoy burst in from the turbolift.

"What is it? What happened?" he gasped, panting.

"We don't know yet." Kirk furrowed his eyebrows.

"Uhura's sick," Dorthea offered.

"Not—" she heaved again. "—sick!"

"Oh no, of course not," McCoy said cynically, digging through a bag and approaching Uhura simultaneously. "You're just puking for the fun of it. You like the empty feeling after."

She managed to shoot him a death glare from under Spock's arm.

"I believe she has been traumatized," Spock suggested. "She mentioned Admiral Pike before vomiting."

"Can I be the doctor for once?" McCoy snapped.

"I am merely providing my observations in order to assist in your diagnosis."

"You know, one of these days I would really like to hit you."

"I do not understand what such an act of violence would accomplish, but if you are aware of a goal that can be achieved by it I will gladly participate."

"Oh, I know of a few goals that can be achieved by it," McCoy griped. "Smart-mouthed gnome…."

Thankfully, the doctor turned his attention to Uhura, who had just finished being sick again.

"All right, what happened?"

"P-Pike hailed us and he said he had to sp-peak to me." She spat on the floor and wiped her mouth with the back of her shaking hand. Glaring up at the lights, her chin trembled. "My dad had a stroke last night."

Tension clogged the air and Dorthea gulped, trying to make her tightened body relax.

"Is he—?" Kirk couldn't finish his sentence. His breath caught.

Uhura bit her lip before answering. "Th-they said it d-doesn't look good."

"Uhura… I'm sorry," he muttered.

Dorthea wanted to consol her, but it felt like butting in. So she stayed in the back, holding a concerned look.

"I…." She pushed herself onto her feet and looked around almost helplessly. "I need to go…."

With those words, the room instantly reawakened, everyone turning to their own business once more with a respectful determination to keep their eyes away from her. Dorthea hurried to the Communications station and slid on the headset. Spock followed Uhura into the turbolift after speaking quickly with Kirk. A jolt shocked through Dorthea's body when she realized that the First Officer would be leaving with the Communications officer. Even as a civilian, she would've known that couldn't be good. The same thought apparently occurred to Kirk, for he traveled quickly to her side.

"DeVult, you're gonna have to take over for Uhura."

"What?" Her heart spluttered to an almost-stop. "What? No. No, I don't think I can. Sorry."

"So am I, 'cause you've got to. We need a Communications officer that can understand other races, just in case."

"But… how do you know I can? I mean, over the screen? What if I have to be in contact with them?"

"Well, it can't hurt to try."

"Yes it can! _Yes _it can! It could hurt!"

Kirk fixed her with a silencing glare. She slouched in her seat but turned to face the desk anyway. Her heart thrummed like a motor on her chest, beating its imprint into her sternum. She wasn't… she couldn't… She'd only been on the ship for _maybe_ two weeks, not even! How did Kirk expect her to be able to handle this? She could feel her body hyperventilating, as it was so easy for her strained lungs at the moment. Her tongue went numb, as did her limbs. Black spots dissolved her vision in great splotches.

"Hey!" Kirk grabbed her around the shoulders and knelt down to her level. "Hey! You can_ not_ pass out! We need you! You can _not_ start freaking out! I _order_ you to relax!"

"Like _ordering_… me… is going… to help," she gasped, chest heaving.

Kirk gave her a withering glower and withdrew his hand back a few inches into his sleeve. He held the empty fabric out to her and said, "Breathe."

She took it willingly, because she honestly didn't want to abandon him, or the _Enterprise_. There was just too much to take in one go. Breathing into the sleeve helped a lot, and pretty soon her head was spinning from relief, rather than panic. Her breathing slowed and her limbs regained feeling.

"Thank you," she mumbled into the sleeve, eyes down at her shoes.

He pulled it away and stretched his hand back out. "Are you good?"

"Yeah." And she was.

"Okay. You'll do fine."

Dorthea nodded and Kirk went back to his chair. She spun in her seat and focused not on the job ahead, but the job in that very second. This reduced the level of stress weighing down her shoulders immensely. She fell into a routine a little awkwardly, but managed to get by until she was interrupted by the lift doors sliding open. Dorthea blanched, hand on her head to remove the microphone.

"You're not going with?" she blurted.

He tilted his head to the right. "No. The need for my presence is greater here than with Lieutenant Uhura."

"But—!"

Kirk twitched his head to the left, then to the right, and stared pointedly at her. She shrunk back into her seat.

"Never mind," she whispered, and Spock moved liquidly to his station.

Hours passed by faster than Dorthea would've originally thought, feeling closer to ten minutes than sixty. Occasionally she would fall into a slump, but only once or twice before it was time to change shifts. She stood and stretched wearily, surprised at how much stamina it took to just sit there. But luck had been on her side; all she _had_ to do was sit there. No transmissions, no random intercepted messages, no contact with anyone.

The bridge cleared quickly, save for herself, Kirk, Sulu, and Spock. Kirk and Sulu had to stay until the others were fully situated. Spock wanted to. She could feel it in the brainwaves surrounding his mind. Tasting them with her own mind, she touched the edges. The insignificant touch triggered a full-blown storm in her head, raging angrily against fact. Whipping around, Dorthea clenched her jaw and fists, hunched her shoulders, like a recovering drug addict being unfairly tempted with the addiction. No, it wasn't fair at all. Her face screwed up in determination, her heart pounded out an irregular beat.

Resisting was too hard. It tore at her every molecule, stretching them in half until she would definitely be ripped apart. Dorthea took a step toward the door. It was much more difficult than she would've thought, and that was saying something. Like a semi truck had been chained to her feet and had engaged the emergency brake. But once she took the second step, it got easier. She pulled the truck along, one step at a time, until the lift doors closed behind her. After punching the button down to her quarters' level, she slumped against the wall, her body physically tired from the strain. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she glared up at the lights, her muscles weak and jelly-like. The doors opened and she stepped out, throwing her back to the wall and sliding down. Just to rest. Sitting there for a few minutes wouldn't hurt anyone. Not at all. She was just resting for a minute, just gathering enough strength to walk to her room. No one would notice her, and if they did, they wouldn't be bothered by it. Just Dorthea. Just resting. No reason to stop. And yet, someone was touching her. Cupping her chin, lifting her face up. What?

Dorthea blinked and looked up, blinded by the sudden lights.

"GAH!" She tried to scoot back but found that her back was already against the wall, and her head smacked into it in desperation to get farther away.

"I apologize. Frightening you was not my intention."

She clutched her chest, feeling it rising and falling drastically under her uniform. Spock blinked innocently.

"Wha…what…?" Dorthea didn't seem to be able to make the words come out for the sudden fear that flooded her body, making the room swirl.

"You had fallen asleep," he explained. "I was uncertain as to whether or not you desired the floor for your new resting place."

"What are you doing here?" She brushed her bangs from her eyes and stumbled to her feet, snapping her lids shut and open again to wake herself up.

"I believe the phrase is 'hitting the hay'."

She chuckled, then rubbed her face roughly with her palms, pressing on her eyes with the heels.

"I should too, I suppose," she grumbled.

Spock nodded once. "I shall say good night, then."

"Yeah, you too. Night."

She moved to walk the opposite way and swerved so radically in her exhaustion that the wall suddenly seemed much closer.

"Perhaps I should assist you?" he suggested, grabbing her elbow before she could smash into anything else. His eyebrow perked, enunciating the dry humor that leaked into his tone.

"Maybe," she allowed, gazing with bewilderment at the wall. She knew the possible consequences, and as of that moment, she didn't care. If her curiosity acted up again, there was no way she could fight it off in this state.

He led her by the elbow, his skin causing hers to burn so hot that she was dimly amazed that it didn't catch fire. It only took a few minutes to arrive at her door and she leaned face first toward it. Spock's grip tightened before she could cause her body any more harm and he opened the door, then helped her to the bed. Dorthea fell gratefully onto the mattress and sprawled out.

"Thank you," she said into the pillow, the cotton muffling her words.

He didn't respond. Unthinkingly, she felt around for his mind.

She didn't know if exhaustion made it worse, or if there was something different, but his mind smashed into hers with a stunning force.

"Spock?" she muttered.

"Yes."

"C'mere for a sec."

"Are you in need of something?"

"Sure. Let's go with that."

A heated breeze blew past her as he moved to her side. She reached out her hand, searching through the air blindly for his.

"Pull me up," she said.

He took her wrist—not her hand—and aided her in turning so she sat up right on the edge of the bed. She patted the spot next to her.

"I would prefer to stand," he declined politely, a miniscule wave of confusion toning his thoughts.

Her desire surged again and she smacked the mattress demandingly, eyes closed so she couldn't see the betrayal she would commit.

"Did you want to do this or not?" she snapped, not able to keep the anger with herself out of her voice.

"I do not understand."

Finally opening her eyes, she met his.

"The mind meld."

* * *

**A/N: sorry i've been gone for so long! we've had crap weather and tornadoes and bad things like that that keep me from getting on the computer unless i want to fry it. =p but i am updating and i HOPE to get another two chapters up to make up for it. don't give up on me! lol. and i've uploaded some pictures of what dorthea and eliza and their dad look like in my head (sort of. i always pictured dorthea's hair a darker red with sort of black lowlights underneath, but that was closest i could get) on my profile, so if you want you can check them out! lol. okay. read and review! thanks! =D**

**title and quote above from: http : / / www . pokertips . org / strategy / deception . php**

**oh! fyi, i am going to camp for a week from july 4-11, so i won't have any updates during those days. sorry! =(**


	13. Step 4: Tilt

**Chapter 13: Step 4: Tilt**

* * *

_Being on tilt means letting your emotions disrupt your ability to play._

* * *

"Your decision has altered."

"Yes. My decision has altered." She couldn't hold back the sarcasm, though it was directed toward herself.

Spock lowered himself onto the mattress, letting his hands lightly curve around the edges as if he were readying himself to spring away at any given moment.

"Would it be rude to inquire as to if you were going to repeat your previous actions?" The glare he drilled into her cheek didn't feel insulting; more like genuine curiosity.

"No, it wouldn't. And no, I'm not."

Dorthea situated herself on the bed so their interaction would be easier, pulling one leg up and twisting her body to face him so that her left leg was in a crisscross position and the other hung loosely off the bed. She plopped her hands down in front of her and looked directly into his eyes.

"You recall my condition?"

She nodded sharply. "Do you wanna go first, or should I?"

"Please understand I have reason to doubt your word." Spock raised his hand again.

"Totally." Dorthea marveled at the cool detachment with which she spoke, while her insides were burning her flesh into dried, flaky ash.

When his hand was an inch from her skin, she pulled back a little, allowing a question that had been bubbling up in her for a long time to burst out.

"Just, before we do this," she began. "Why? Why do you _want_ to? You know I'm not Eliza—" she might as well just come out and say it, he would cement his hypothesis in seconds "—so why else would you want to?"

A smile played with the corners of his lips. "You fascinate me," he said, and pressed his fingers in the same points as before.

The last thing that crossed Dorthea's mind before Spock entered it was flattery: she _fascinated_ him! Woo-hoo!

If the Klingons were a storm, raging and thundering above while pelting her with knifelike raindrops and jolting her with lightning, Spock was the sun, warm rays spilling over her entire body like a sheet of warm bathwater. Nothing about his entrance made her squirm, nothing made her cringe. The Klingons violated her with their harsh tools and cold demeanor. Spock kept her calm and safe and comfortable, not unlike the honesty of Kirk's thoughts. Any history of violent thoughts seemed impossible in his grasp, any violence at _all_ couldn't exist. Just the sun, just its sweet, golden rays spreading across her bare skin, heating every inch of her body.

His presence _was_ noticeable; she felt him shuffling quickly through her memories, thoughts, files of information stored way back in the dusty corners of her head. So lost in the feeling of sunshine, Dorthea nearly forgot her own condition. Had Spock not found the shadow of surprise and craving imprinted in her head from her first encounter with his unique mind and reminded her, she would have.

_Your condition_, he thought quietly to her so as to not disturb the sudden peace she'd fallen into.

It took her a moment, but Dorthea managed to escape from the wonderful warmth and felt with her brain down to the tips of her fingers. She lifted them, which proved a difficult task seeing as half of her mind still basked in the glow, and like a veil covered one eye, she shakily piloted her hand to his face and rested her palm against his cheek.

His cool skin seared hers in the instant of contact, like brushing along a metal fire pit, and he quirked an internal eyebrow. She could feel it, but she couldn't see it.

_Fascinating,_ he admitted again, _how your skin is cool, but burns my own_.

_You can feel that too, huh?_ Her mental voice sounded breathy and she tried to control it. _Don't Vulcans have really high temperatures?_

She felt him frown. _Yes._

_Mari don't. How strange_. She paused. _Are you ready for this? We'll be reading each other's minds reading each other's minds._

Her convoluted sentence cracked a sardonic smile from his lips. _Quite_.

With that last thought, Dorthea let her own barrier fall, rushing into his mind like rapids breaking through a blockage. Spock had dropped his walls as well, and the entirety of it simply glowed. Silver luminescence shocked her into a daze, brighter than before when she only saw parts. Now, with the black masses that kept her away from his true intensity crumbled, her own mind swam. With relief, and with an unexpected wave of determination that rolled through her with the force of a tsunami. Spock observed with intrigue as she struggled against that same determination, the one that urged her to go so far into his mind that she could never come out.

_Fascinating_, he muttered, speaking of his own mind. It posed quite a feeling, hearing his thoughts in his head, her head, and from his in her head. Picking the three apart was difficult: the textures, mostly, were the only differences. The voice in his head was purest, silkiest, because that's where it originated. The one in her head felt scratchier, with more nicks in the thread, though if she'd never experienced it she wouldn't have noticed. The third was blurry with wear and tear.

Dorthea steadily, slowly lost the war against the raging need to be completely consumed, growing weaker in every passing second. Even her body fought, tensing the muscles that tried to pull her other hand to his face. She could feel Spock searching through a separate part of her mind, not paying much attention to the battle partaking all around him, and wished desperately that he could be there to fight with her, for she knew he wouldn't want this. Not what was certain to come if she gave in. She scrambled for his attention as her body faltered. The strain yanking on the strings of her head caused a headache to throb all over and Dorthea attempted to push some of the pain on to him, to bring the dire situation to light. Still captivated by his need to uncover her secrets, Spock flipped through everything that had ever happened to her. Every single moment, torturing her with the time he gave for her to fall. He watched them backwards, like a movie that's scenes had been placed in reverse order.

_Spock_. Her voice stressed his name, panting with effort. _Please. Spock._

A frenzy built up in her very core, bubbling and swelling to astronomical proportions, pushing on her insides. It seeped into her veins, boiling the blood that flowed there and causing her temperature to rise to unhealthy levels. It clenched her tendons and made them pop under her snowy skin. It slithered into every organ, churning and twisting and seizing until she couldn't hold it any longer. Like the eruption of a volcano, it exploded inside her with incredible force, blowing away every thought, every grain of sense she had. Meaning that Spock—sensible, logical, impassive Spock—was wiped away in the fiery outburst as well, leaving only pure emotion from the both of them. Emotion and pounding desire that poured from his indescribable mind, so that they thought along the same network, along the same line. Their bodies moved in perfect sync.

Her hands gripped the sides of his face, pulling him so close that their noses touched. The silvery strands pulsated, lustrous with a white light that surrounded each one like a halo. Her vision cleared immensely with the added contact area of her second hand and she could almost see not just the light of liquid-fire, but also the contours of it, shooting through those shining silver-white threads. Making it clearer, more vibrant, more _real_, was all that mattered to Dorthea now, and her instincts took over.

Physical contact must have increased her vision, allowed more of her to enter more of _him_. So, logically, the next step would be to increase said physical contact. Her body slid closer and Spock pulled his arms around her, holding her to his torso. The vision strengthened again, although the fabric between them reduced the effects considerably. Not good enough.

Dorthea's hands moved on their own, curving under his ears, sliding easily through the hair at the back of his neck, and became stone. She pulled him forward, her heart pumping in protest and encouragement, pounding with the fury of its two separate wants. Spock's hands pressed into her back, cementing her body to his, and their lips touched.

Fire surged through Dorthea's body, feeding from the fuel on her mouth. It scorched every inch of flesh it touched, melting her into him. She drown in the fire, allowing it to pull her under. His mind darkened for just a second, or maybe it just seemed dark to her slow-acting brain. Because when she resurfaced, it was blinding. So clear, she must've been standing, surrounded by it. It must've been corporeal, not just an image created by the chemicals that flooded her blood. It had to be. She could touch it. She _wanted_ to touch it. She reached out her hand—

Suddenly, her body was moving, ripping her angrily from the shimmering thoughts. She felt herself being twisted by her wrists, flipping around and slamming her back painfully into the bed. Dorthea gasped for air; the rough landing had knocked the oxygen from her lungs. She lay again in her quarters, so dark after the white purity that for a wild moment she thought she'd gone blind. Blinking as her thoughts and pupils adjusted themselves, she managed to pick up a heavy, labored breathing above her. She registered the cool burning that grasped her wrists, signaling Spock's touch. Feeling abruptly guilty, she slammed her eyes shut, not wanting to look up at him and meet his undoubtedly furious eyes.

The breathing that grated against Spock's throat evolved to a near-growl, and she knew she had to open her eyes sometime. Squinting them open at first, Dorthea took in as much as she could without allowing him access to her gaze. He'd torn away from her and slung her around to the foot of the bed in almost the same liquid movement, pinning her down so she couldn't resist his restraining hold. Spock obviously tuned in to her desperation sometime during the absence of control. An ache in her thighs, just above her knees, told her that his dug into the muscle there, adding to the increasing pain in her wrists—hundredfold in the broken one. Peeking up warily, she caught his chocolate eyes with hers.

Fury. Unbarred fury blazed in them, the irises almost disappearing as the black rage in his pupils dilated. In that moment, Spock terrified her. If she could've, Dorthea would've shrunk into herself, but his hands held her wrists so tightly that she couldn't have moved a millimeter if she used every ounce of strength she had. She didn't know what to say.

"Oh," she panted, chest heaving. "Oh… I…. Oh…."

His nostrils flared.

"I didn't mean to," she insisted breathlessly, falling limp, giving her life up to his mercy. "I… I swear…. I tried…."

Reluctantly she peered into his mind, the willpower she used to control her craving so powerful after the lapse that she could without feeling any desire to invade. Well, without feeling such a strong desire. The liquid-flame thoughts were shooting through the hollow threads five times faster than normal. Dorthea twitched in her surprise; she was sure he would build up all the walls again. When she fixated on the thoughts' meanings, her insides shook with unexplainable fear. For the first time ever since she'd met him, Spock's thoughts were jumbled. Jumbled tangles that had been stunned so they no longer functioned correctly; just blank surges of nothing.

"I-I-I…." Dorthea shivered. What could be said? "I'm…."

His breath regulated after a couple minutes and the pulses of thought slowed down and began to sort themselves out. His hold on her relaxed and he climbed off in a single, smooth movement. Spock slowly inched back to the edge of the bed, falling off with a strange grace. From where his feet touched the floor he fell directly into the chair. Dorthea pushed herself up onto her elbows and gazed anxiously at him.

"A-Are you… are you o-okay?"

His hand tensed on the armrest, popping the wiry tendons under his skin, but again relaxed.

"I am unsure." He spoke with jerky precision, keeping his eyes locked on something a couple feet to the right of her.

"I-I didn't m-mean t-t-to," Dorthea stammered, amazed at how terrified she'd suddenly become. "I swear…."

He didn't respond, didn't even move in acknowledgement. On the count of three, Dorthea shoved up with her elbows and righted herself, folding her legs under her and clasping her hands, letting them fall into her lap.

"I t-tried… to t-t-tell you b-before," she continued carefully, watching his every expression, every twitch of his fingers, for a sign that she should duck and cover. "Before it h-happened…. I can't c-control m-m-myself with your m-mind…."

"I am aware," he responded apathetically, still glaring far to the right.

Dorthea remained silent for a moment, allowing him to calm down, as speaking seemed to anger him further. When his flared nostrils fell into their normal shape, she counted to ten and spoke again.

"Are y… d-don't be angry with m-me," she pleaded, still incapable of stabilizing her tongue so that the extra consonants it added would disappear.

"I am not angry."

"Th-then why a-are you so—"

"Please do not speak."

Instantly Dorthea bit her lip, powerless to his orders. For what felt like an hour she waited as his eyes closed. Time went on slowly, and she quickly grew anxious. Impatient. But she'd never admit that to herself. He deserved to be angry with her. When she couldn't contain it anymore, when the question stung her lips, when she opened her mouth to speak, he again interrupted.

"Anger is a human flaw," Spock stated, eyes still shut.

"Yes," she agreed softly, her muscles calm enough to cease stuttering.

"As you are undoubtedly aware, I am half human."

"As am I," she contributed quietly.

His eyelids slid slowly open, staring at her blankly for a moment, then closed again.

"You understand, then," he said, "that I am capable of feeling anger."

"Yes."

"I am also half Vulcan."

"Yes."

"Are you well informed in Vulcan history?"

She didn't understand along what tracks he was directing the conversation, but then, she _wasn't_ well informed in Vulcan history, so that might've been why.

Without waiting, Spock continued.

"Vulcans suppress their emotions in order to think completely logically, to see every situation from an unbiased angle to achieve the best possible results."

She nodded, though what good it would do while his eyes were closed Dorthea didn't know. He proceeded.

"Vulcan emotions are stronger than human emotions."

Oh.

"Being half human, mine can be triggered with simpler methods."

When she tasted the honey-sweet of her blood on her tongue, Dorthea freed her bottom lip from her teeth.

"You were angry," she stated in a whisper.

His eyes opened again and Spock fixed her in the most hypnotic gaze she'd ever been under. She couldn't look away.

"I came extremely close."

She glared down at her rumpled bed covers and gnawed on her lip again. She deserved to bleed.

"For your own safety, I suggest we not do this again."

Tears stung her eyes, prickling the corners as he said the one thing she couldn't handle.

"The mind meld?" she mumbled without really hoping.

"Preferably both."

Her nails dug into her palms, leaving red crescent-shaped indents in the soft flesh. She felt the air stir as Spock stood up and passed her on the way to her door. He paused when the door opened.

"Good night, Dorthea."

And the door _whish_ed shut behind him, leaving her to succumb to the silent, shocked tears that poured down her cheeks, falling asleep four hours later in a damp uniform.

* * *

**A/N: so, i'm so sorry i didn't get up those two chapters i hoped to get up but i've had a headache for the past couple of days and i'm trying to tone down the thinking to a minimum =p but i am spending ALL day tomorrow writing this because i feel like crap for neglecting it. lol. and i just wanted to thank everyone that's staying with me on this, reading it and whatnot. =) i love you guys!!!! *tear* keep reading and reviewing, please!!!! thank you so much!**

**title and quote above from http : // www . pokertips . org / strategy / tilt . php**


	14. Unexpected

**Chapter 14 – Unexpected**

* * *

Kirk shuffled awkwardly through the turbolift, huffing and puffing as he attempted to navigate the large, fold-up poker table through the doors on his own.

"D'you need a hand?" Dorthea asked, glancing over at the captain.

"No!" he snapped stubbornly, readjusting his grip on the big metal square and waddling to the middle of the room.

McCoy snorted behind him and shook his head as Kirk lost his balance and tipped precariously on the edges of his heels. He allowed the blonde to fall a couple degrees before snatching the top edge of the table and righting him. Kirk glared over the grey metal at McCoy, who simply smirked and jerked the table from Kirk's hands. He unfolded the legs and set it on the floor, working the object much easier than Kirk seemed able to. Dorthea chuckled before removing her headset and redoing the side braid that she'd weaved down to her hip. After observing Kirk for three straight weeks, she'd come to the conclusion that—out of the role of captain—he was just clumsy. Maybe not clumsy, but certainly confused when it came to trivial things. He made others look very graceful, like McCoy and Spock.

She stopped in her tracks, the back of the chair she dragged along to the table smashing into her heels. Dorthea had been very careful over the last week and half to not think about him, it only made the ache in her brain act up again. Currently, it throbbed persistently behind her right eye, reminding her of what she'd lost.

"What are we playing today?" she asked louder than necessary to distract herself from the thoughts that pushed against the wall she'd built up.

"Let's play Bull Shit," Kirk said, flopping down in his chair while Bones unpacked his professional playing cards. "I'm tired of Texas Hold'em."

She shot him a doubtful look but quickly glanced away. Bull Shit was such an adolescent game. And anyways, how could someone get tired of Texas Hold'em?

"C'mon, you guys," Kirk waved everyone over.

The _Enterprise_ had remained in the Alpha Quadrant since Uhura's departure, reluctant to leave their best Communications officer behind, so there had been nothing really to do but play cards all day. Scotty pulled up a chair as Chekov and Sulu meandered over uncomfortably, having only joined in their games a couple days ago. McCoy dealt out all the cards, throwing an extra pile where the First Officer usually sat.

"Get over here, Spock," Kirk said to his cards, frowning slightly.

Despite the way her knuckles clenched and whitened, Dorthea's entire hand slid from her fingers. She dove under the table to retrieve them, blushing a furious silver when she reappeared. Scotty stared at her with a lifted eyebrow that squeezed her stomach.

"Butterfingers?" he mocked.

She chuckled nervously and lowered her eyes to stare at her hand, rearranging them into numerical order to have something to do.

"I have other tasks to complete before I may join you," Spock stated, flipping through a stack of papers as he spoke.

"Oh, please," McCoy called over his shoulder cynically. "You think just because your girlfriend's gone you don't have to play?"

"I do not recall saying that." He set the pile of paper down to the left and picked up a different, though equally large, tower.

"You've been working constantly," Kirk complained, obviously noting his absence that had begun to appear after the mind meld. "Come on, Spock. That's an order."

At the command Spock instantly dropped his work and walked over to the table, sitting down and picking up his hand without uttering a word. Dorthea was instantly tempted to bow out and go back to sitting at her station, but that would be too obvious. Besides, the call of the cards was too strong. She smiled grimly to herself. She had no control when it came to things she wanted.

Kirk set down one card. "One ace."

Then McCoy. "Two twos."

Scotty. "One three."

"One four." Sulu.

"Two fives," Chekov muttered.

Dorthea caught the way his eyelids fluttered, though she was sure no one else did. She didn't call him on it; he looked too sweet and innocent to disappoint.

"Two sixes."

Dorthea could always spot someone's lie. Every time. The product of playing ever since she was eight, and playing with her father and his friends. Also, being able to see people's thoughts and putting their facial expressions or body movements to them helped when she couldn't read them. But Spock had no little quirk whatsoever. Nothing. It felt so unsettling, when she was so hyperaware of him as it was, and she couldn't tell when he lied. _Especially_ in cards. It made sense for his almost lack of emotion, but it was still unsettling. Drawing her eyes away from him, she tossed out a five with nonchalance.

"One seven."

"Two eights." Kirk slipped the cards out and then dropped his hand to his lap, brushing the edge of the table with his fingers.

"Bull shit."

"Fuck you." He threw at Dorthea, and she returned his glower with a smirk.

"Let's see it."

He turned over his two cards, revealing an eight and a six.

"Almost," she taunted, pushing the twelve cards toward him.

"How?" he grumbled, meaning her ability to catch him red-handed every time.

She winked at him and again rearranged her cards.

"Two nines." McCoy.

"One ten." Scotty.

"Bull shit."

Scotty glared at Sulu, then at the Tribble at his side like it was his fault, and took the new pile into his own hand as the helmsman threw out a jack.

"One queen," Chekov said.

"Bull shit," Kirk said. "Sorry. I've got them all."

Chekov smiled and added the two extra cards.

"Two kings." Spock.

"One ace." Dorthea.

"Bull shit."

What?

Everyone's heads snapped to Spock, who was, in turn, staring deliberately at Dorthea. She blinked. The unwritten rule shared by the others had been violated. Do not call Spock, he will always _somehow_ manage to have gotten the accurate cards. ("Even if I had every single card in the deck, he would still get away with it," Kirk had mumbled after losing spectacularly the day before.) Do not call Dorthea, she was too obscure. Besides, she had no problem with bloody revenge—bloody in the metaphorical sense, of course. Generally, she held back on calling a lie, just because she preferred to stick you with a huge pile later. But she would get your fib every time if you called her out, so they'd come to understand over the week of nonstop playing.

"Bull shit," he repeated calmly, meeting her bewildered gaze with a defiant one of his own.

She flipped her card over, revealing a four, never breaking eye contact. She tucked her tongue in her cheek but dragged the cards over to her hand.

"HA!" Kirk yelled after a minute, startling everyone out of their silence, pointing victoriously at Dorthea. "HA! FAIL!"

Dorthea stuck her tongue out at him and play resumed like nothing had happened. The pain throbbed behind her eye again.

After an hour she excused herself, tension that no one else felt building up in her chest and throat, drying it out until hydration became an issue. She strode quickly over to her station, snatched up the water bottle that sat unstably on the desk, and took a long swig. When she sat it down, Dorthea blanched as something caught her eye.

"Captain, we're being hailed."

"The guys" immediately reverted to "the crew" and each person's attention fixed on her. She nervously wondered how long this had gone unnoticed.

"Open the connection," Kirk directed.

She did so and the screen flickered to life. Uhura's slender profile fizzled into visibility, though the bright smile that had gradually reclaimed her face after accepting Dorthea's temporary employment was replaced by a weary line. She had bags under her eyes and her normally warm, coffee-colored complexion paled. She seemed thinner.

"Uhura!" Kirk breathed her name with immense relief.

"Captain," she inclined her head in greeting.

"How're things down on Earth?" he inquired, his cheerful disposition creeping back up in a pink flush of his cheeks.

"As well as can be," she relayed.

"And your father?" Spock asked quietly.

Her brown eyes found his and softened. "He's going to be okay."

"I am pleased."

"I'm ecstatic," she replied, her tone not at all matching her words.

Dorthea couldn't help but giggle, surprised at how seeing Uhura's face rolled the tension away from her chest, when she thought it would increase it a thousand times. "You sound like it," she observed, trying to be serious but smiling all the same.

Uhura laughed as well.

"Are you coming back then?" Kirk guessed, returning to the game. (McCoy had been pestering him persistently since Dorthea had left.)

"Yeah, actually. That's what I was calling to say. Pike says I'm ready to go now, so whenever you want to fire up the transporters…."

"Scotty?" Kirk nodded to the Chief Engineer and threw down a couple cards.

"Aye, Capt'n. I'm on it."

He and the Tribble hurried into the turbolift and disappeared up to the transporters.

"We'll see you in a few, then," Kirk said in dismissal.

Uhura nodded and the connection died. Dorthea took her water bottle back to the table and glanced at her cards.

"Eight?" she checked.

"Yeah," Sulu answered.

She withdrew two eights and put them into the pile. Kirk followed with three nines—no one called this; his hand was too thick to doubt—and then McCoy with a ten. They didn't have to wait for Scotty for long as he and Uhura returned to the bridge. Spock straightened to his feet and Scotty sat back down, adding a jack to the growing amount of cards. Uhura made a beeline for him and everyone politely turned their eyes away.

"So, how about those Klingons, huh?" Kirk said loudly, earning a snort from McCoy.

"Oh yeah. Mmm, yeah. They're… they're Klingons, definitely," said Sulu, playing along with an amused smirk.

Dorthea smiled weakly at them, ignoring the bubble of jealousy that formed in her throat as she spotted Uhura placed her lips on Spock's from the corner of her eye. _She_ got to hear his thoughts—to hell with that, he _told_ her his thoughts. _She_ got to feel the burn of his skin, even if it didn't feel cool to her. Dorthea consoled herself with the thought that _she_ couldn't see his mind and kept playing.

Lunch took much longer to arrive than ever before and Dorthea jumped up from the table, slamming her hand down and bolting to the turbolift as fast as she could without breaking a walk. She jammed the button to take her to the mess hall and rested against the wall. For a minute after it came to a halt, she waited, calming down a strange surge of emotion so that she could walk out without looking suspicious. As she moved to walk out, her stomach gave a lurch that sent her straight back in. She hesitated, then pressed the button that would take the turbolift to her quarters. She wasn't really hungry, anyway.

It felt nice to be back in her room, despite the fact that she'd only left there a couple hours ago. Dorthea relished again in the cool darkness of it and flopped backwards onto her bed, limbs spread out as far as they would go. She stared at the ceiling, allowing any thoughts that would come to invade her mind.

The first string entailed nothing but concern over the ache behind her eye, for it had stretched out during the morning to penetrate her brain stem and trailed all the way down her spinal column. Twisting her head this way and that, she attempted to relax the muscles there, only achieving slight relief. After Dorthea had massaged her neck thoroughly she removed her boots and folded her hands under her head.

Spock. His face swam tantalizingly in her minds eye, skin bright as snow and deep brown eyes piercing against the black ceiling. Her eyebrows knitted together thoughtfully. She was determined to eradicate this fixation she had with him, and she'd proceed logically. Find the problem, and destroy it.

First. What drew her to him? Of course, that answer was obvious. His mind. The perfect purity and intricacy of it. The uniqueness. But she had that, or she _had_ had it, anyway. Was that it, though? The squirming in her digestive organs didn't think so. If she saw things emotionally, she would say she was being ridiculous. If she looked at them from every perspective, completely uninfluenced, she would say that her body reacted strangely to him. His skin, however hot his temperature was, felt cool against hers, but it burned. Like touching dry ice. His eyes had odd ways of making her lose all sense of thought and motion. And… she _enjoyed_ looking at him. If she got right down to it, she enjoyed _him_. She loved the burn from his skin, the flipping of her stomach around him, the unintentional control he had over her. She adored the way he spoke, with such precision, and so clear. The way he moved, so proper and graceful. How his touch shocked her heart into flurried arrhythmia. His lips, soft and firm and icy and fire all at the same time, on hers…. And she _hated_ that Uhura had it all. There was no point in lying to herself. Dorthea's throat clogged.

_Okay_. So maybe… she liked him. Maybe… more than that. Maybe she _adored_ him. Big problem. Desperate to escape the breathtaking realization, Dorthea made way for new thoughts.

What could she _do_ about it? Not speak to him, avoid him as much as possible. Go on sabbatical. Or, gently wean herself off, like an infant and breast milk. Take baby steps. She could do that, right? Right? _Right?_

"Petty Officer DeVult, please report to the bridge."

Uhura's voice jolted Dorthea from her panicked craze and she flung herself upward, glancing at the clock. Again unsettled by how much time had passed without her noticing, she scrambled to pull on her boots and, checking her braid for signs of bed-head, hurried back to the turbolift.

Determination overtook her and she stomped forcefully into the bridge, taking her seat without meeting anyone's eyes, although she heard Kirk wondering silently what was wrong with her. She took a huge gulp of water, slid on her headset, and tuned out everything around her. Baby steps would be hard, she discovered, as the creeping urge to glance Spock's way rocked her insides. She took another gulp, allowing the liquid to saturate her already dry mouth and throat, before settling into her chair for a long rest of the day.

She could barely remember her time in the bridge passing. They'd begun travel away from base now that Uhura had returned and were somewhere in the Beta Quadrant, so there could be no more poker. Uhura handled all contact, of which there was little, so all Dorthea had to do was, figuratively, sit there and look pretty. She'd mastered the art of zoning out in half an hour and when she woke from the stupor, everyone was stretching their arms and preparing for the shift change. She didn't feel her feet carry her to the lift, or to her room, to the shower, to her bed. It reminded her painfully of the morning after the Night of No Sleep, when half the day passed exactly the same as today: in a blur. Sadly, she noticed, each time had something to do with Spock. How pathetic. She blinked wearily up at the ceiling for the second time that day and again drown in her thoughts.

Unfortunately, Dorthea knew she couldn't pass every day in total oblivion. But baby steps seemed too hard. If she gave in, she wouldn't come out, this hypothesis supported by the feelings that swarmed her organs like angry butterflies. Cold turkey would do nothing but strengthen her feelings until they burst out in a fiery explosion. So, she needed another way. Conclusions evaded her for hours. As her body drifted off to sleep, her mind stayed very awake, whirring away for an answer. It popped into her head the instant her body succumbed to exhaustion. She tossed on a black tank top and sweats and stumbled out the door, tripping over her own feet and almost colliding with the floor in her haste.

His mind was a major addiction, right? Just because she hadn't experienced the entire thing yet. So, that was the answer. Experience it. Of course, she'd have to tell him about her infatuation, but what harm would that do if it would separate them both? It might even help, scare him into staying away from her.

She ran down the halls, scanning her mind for his door number. Skidding to a halt, Dorthea locked her knees and doubled over in front of it, hands on her knees as she caught her breath. When she could spell her full name backward in one go, she knocked. The metal hissed open.

"Spock, I—" Dorthea could have fallen to pieces right there. Literally. She could've disintegrated into dust and floated to the spotless tile for someone to clean up.

"Hey," Uhura yawned, completely unperturbed except for a pink blush toning her cheeks. "Did you need to talk to Spock?"

* * *

**A/N: okay, so this isn't my favorite chapter, mostly because i'm so used to someone discovering that they like someone in like a BANG after denial, but the type of person Dorthea is wouldn't put it off, they'd inspect it. but, i guess, i can't change her, so whatever. lol. still, i hope you like it, and there's another chapter on the way! read and review please!!! =D**


	15. Wakey, Wakey

**Chapter 15 – Wakey, Wakey**

* * *

The only sound Dorthea could manage was a choked sort of "gggggg…."

"Are you okay?" Uhura's perfect brow furrowed.

Dorthea mentally kicked herself. "Uh… yeah… I just…." _Just what?_ _JUST WHAT?_ "…needed… help. With… something…. It can wait…."

"Are you sure?" Uhura frowned. "It's like, three in the morning."

"It is?" Dorthea yelped, her pitch horribly high. "Really? Okay. Um, I'll just… go… not here, then…. Okay. Uh, bye."

She nearly jumped out of her socks in her hurry to escape, but Uhura's voice called her back.

"Hey," she said softly. "Can you try not to say anything about this?"

"About what?" Dorthea squeaked, extremely aware of the blood pooling in her cheeks.

"Well… _this_." Uhura indicated herself and the room behind her. "We don't really want it all over the place."

"Oh, that? Yeah, sure, no problem. This what? I was never here. For all I know, you're in your own room. This what?" Dorthea shrugged.

The rambling that gushed from her mouth coaxed a laugh from Uhura's lips and, shaking her head, she turned back into the room. Dorthea's insides seized and her head swam as she traced the path to her quarters, her surroundings spinning so drastically that she had to use the wall to guide her back. Making it back to the bathroom in time seemed a miracle.

Dorthea slowly dropped to her knees, gripped the edges of the toilet bowl, and unlocked her throat. The most uncomfortable feeling without being painful constricted her insides. Her stomach convulsed, vehemently rejecting the surge of emotion that had gripped her body, and forced it back up through her esophagus. The acid stung her throat, nothing to what her abdomen was doing. It squeezed and tightened, rolling up to her ribs. Her entire torso became compacted cement and she heaved violently, clutching the porcelain with incredible strength, pushing forward on her knees. A ripping noise tore through her chest, so loud she could feel it in her throat. The splatter of vomit in the water only made her stomach more unstable and she retched again.

When there was nothing left to shove up, her stomach clenched tighter in desperation to rid itself of all emotion. Dorthea lifelessly lifted herself onto her feet and felt almost blindly along the miniscule counter for the bottle of pills McCoy had given her, wanting nothing more than to sleep. She popped two into her mouth and settled down on the tile, curled around the U-bend of the toilet, and fell completely limp as the pills took effect.

* * *

_"Dorthea, you're hot." Her mother looked positively ferocious, and Dorthea thought that she could probably breathe fire if she tried. "Did Brian let you play in the rain again?"_

_Dorthea nodded her head, thinking of her most recent visit to Earth. Like seven years before, she and Eliza had run out into the rain, which they saw so little of._

_"Did you tell him about when you got home the last time?"_

_She shook her head, glaring guiltily down at her feet as she recalled the horrible sickness that occupied a month of her life when she returned from Earth on her and her sister's previous visit. Aphera huffed angrily._

_"Do you want to be sick? Do you enjoy it?"_

_Dorthea twirled a strand of hair around her finger and glanced up at her mother. The oncoming moment of fun would cost her dearly, but she couldn't resist. Dorthea looked innocently up into her mother's deep eyes and nodded. She watched as Aphera seemed to swell._

_"Well, fine then. You can take care of yourself, if you like it so much."_

_Dorthea twitched an eyebrow. That was it?_

_Aphera deflated and glowered at her daughter. "You are so like your father," she snapped. "Always a smart-mouth. Saying whatever you want, doing whatever you want…. If you want to act like him, you can live like him too: on your own. Make sure not to vomit on my floor, because you're cleaning it up."_

_There it was. She never shouted, but Aphera's comments always poked Dorthea exactly in the right spot. She sniffed and, eyes watering, ran into the bathroom as her stomach pushed up her lunch. After the third lurch, the door quietly opened and someone joined her. Warm hands gathered her shoulder-length hair and held it out of the way._

_"I didn't mean that," Aphera's soft voice whispered into Dorthea's ear. "It was wrong. I'm sorry."_

_Her stomach felt a little better, relaxing slightly after the next heave._

_"But you need to show me some respect, too."_

_"I didn't mean—" Dorthea's words cut off with a strange gurgle and she leaned over the toilet again._

_Aphera waited patiently for her to continue. Dorthea tested her stomach's stability but spoke to the bowl anyway._

_"I didn't mean to not show respect," she mumbled. "It just came out."_

_Like bells, Aphera's laugh rang in through the bathroom, making Dorthea giggle too even though she had no idea what they were laughing at._

_"So like your father," her mother repeated, though this time the words were laced with love._

_Dorthea couldn't help but smile._

_"Now, do you want some water?"_

_She nodded, staring nauseously at the water as it swirled when her mother flushed the handle. "Yes, please."_

_Aphera left the room, leaving Dorthea to roll to the floor. She draped one hand across the toilet seat and the other along the tile, resting her head on a cold cloth her mother had spread out before leaving. Oh, she felt so tired. Enough to just… drift off to sleep…._

* * *

Dorthea pried her eyes open to a bright yellow light, one that made her sluggish brain whirl.

"Mmm," she moaned, throwing her arm over her face so that the crook rested just above her eyes, blocking out the beam.

"She's awake."

_Who's awake?_

"Jesus."

_Who's that?_

"Oh, good. I felt so bad…."

_Who feels bad? Why? What's going on?_

Reluctantly, Dorthea pulled her arm away from her eyes so she could look around. Her body felt heavy, like ten pounds had been added to every inch of skin, so maneuvering her head was complicated. It took a couple good tries to manage lifting it, and she quickly became tired when she kept it up. Blinking in the light so her pupils could adjust as needed, she gazed blearily around at her surroundings.

The sickbay, on a stretcher. She could tell that much. But what confused her were the faces staring straight back. McCoy's made sense. Kirk's, he was whatever. Bouncing around wherever he wanted to be, so he didn't much surprise her. But Uhura's and Spock's? No. No, no, no.

"I believe I was correct in thinking that her health was not in any danger." Spock's lips moved accurately, but the words they spoke sounded blurred and were off by about half a second.

McCoy flashed him a glare. "Will you _let me be the doctor _for _one goddam second?_" he snarled. "I like to _earn_ my living, thank you very much."

"I was simply pointing out that your efforts were unnecessary."

Dorthea mumbled incoherently, regaining the use of her mouth. She yawned widely and spoke.

"What am I doing here?" she wondered, yawning again.

"You didn't come up to the bridge, so I went down to check to see if you were okay," Kirk said. "And you were passed out on the floor of your bathroom next to an open bottle of pills."

Dorthea remembered waking up once, for a very short moment, to down another two capsules. She _thought_ she'd closed it…. But when she realized what it must have looked like, Dorthea burst into a fit of laughter.

"You…" she covered her mouth before she could break into full-scale guffaws. "You thought… I tried to commit _suicide?_" She giggled again.

"Hey," Kirk whined defensively. "That's what it looked like."

Dorthea snorted and silver tinted her cheeks. "I was just _tired_. I couldn't sleep. I was sick."

"Obviously," Kirk smirked.

"Why would I try to kill myself," she asked him, honestly wondering if she seemed that depressed, "when I have my sister to think of?"

"Well," he shifted his weight uncomfortably. "You never know. People less crazy than you have done it."

"I'm not crazy." And to prove it, she swung her legs over the edge of the gurney and stood up, fully intending to return to work. Despite any feelings toward Spock she might've had. Or, any feelings toward Spock she _did_ have, but couldn't throw her life away for. Dorthea marveled at the way her mind sped through different decisions, like she went through the pineapples on her pizza. Pick one up, toss it away. Pick another one up, toss it away. Nothing stuck with her.

Her equilibrium had gone all funky during her ten-hour sleep and that, combined with a major head rush, caused Dorthea to collapse back against the stretcher before anyone could catch her. The metal grated against her back and she could feel the skin peel away, allowing single drops of blood to stain trails down her flesh, nearly parallel to her spine. McCoy and Kirk each grabbed one of her elbows and lifted, righting her the instant her butt touched the ground.

"Lovely," she murmured sardonically, craning her head over her shoulder to eye the dark stain slowly blossoming through her uniform with regret.

"If you get it in the wash quickly, you should be fine," Uhura advised.

Dorthea nodded absently, the sudden need to throw the uniform away overpowering any other trivial need, like clothing. Bah. Who needs that.

"Okay, you should probably stay here for a little bit," McCoy said, turning back to his office. "And after I'm done with _that_—" he nodded to the scratch on her back "—we can take off that cast. You should be healed enough for a wrap." He abruptly straightened up, back as rigid as a ramrod. "Oh dear Lord," he muttered. Twisting his torso to stare with wide eyes at the group behind him, he dropped his pen. "Oh dear _Lord_, I got that out without any help from the Vulcan. See? I _can_ be a doctor."

Uhura rolled her eyes and tugged on Spock's hand before he could say something that might start an argument. The two hurried out of sickbay and disappeared around a corner.

"Well, I'd better make sure those two aren't getting feisty out in the hall." Kirk waggled his eyebrows and followed the couple out.

"He's so strange," Dorthea laughed, more to herself than to McCoy.

He responded anyway. "Deal with that for about four years and you'll be where I am. Up."

Dorthea plopped onto the gurney and absentmindedly smoothed out all the wrinkles in the blanket.

"Why were you sick?" McCoy asked, prodding into an area she did not want to be in. "Strip."

"I dunno," she shrugged, hefting her legs over the edge and swiveling around so her back was to him. "Sometimes I get that way if I haven't slept well. I have a weak stomach." She tugged the ruined fabric off and held it in front of her chest habitually.

"I could probably fix that," McCoy informed her, his breath warm on her skin as he bent down to see the scratch. His fingers were rough, but he secured the tape and bandage in less than a second. "We've got so much crap in here, there's got to be something."

Dorthea thanked him but shook her head, sliding back into the uniform. "I'll be fine. I've just got to sleep better."

"Good luck with that," McCoy chuckled as he worked through the cast. "Once you're on those pills you'll never get a better night's sleep. You gettin' shivery when you're off them?" He glanced up at her for a second as he asked, laboring diligently over her arm so she couldn't watch to see what was going on.

"Um, no?"

"Good, you're not addicted yet."

Dorthea couldn't be sure if he was serious or not.

"I didn't know how you'd react to them," he continued. "Being half-Mari and all."

"And you still gave them to me?" she squealed in horror.

McCoy shrugged. Dorthea ignored him for the remainder of the time, only speaking to say thank you when she left.

She felt completely off balance without the weight of the cast on her arm and she waved it around a bit in the turbolift while waiting for it to drop her off at the bridge, hoping to get used to the feeling. The pink gauze around her arm itched and she flounced in, sat down at her seat, and immediately grabbed a pen that she could slide down the length of her arm under the fabric.

"So you understand now that life is too precious to end?" Kirk teased upon her entrance.

"Indeed," Dorthea nodded. "I have changed my ways. No more depression for me."

"Good, 'cause—"

The bridge gave a giant shudder, knocking Kirk back into his chair and shoving Dorthea directly into her station. The edge slammed right underneath her ribs and she let out a breathless "oof!"

"Captain." Uhura swiveled around in her seat to face a bewildered Kirk. "We're receiving a distress call."

"From who?" he asked, narrowing his eyes against the pain that apparently centered in the back of his head, where'd he'd smashed into the chair, rubbing the spot gingerly.

"Cargo," she replied, a befuddled look overtaking her features.

Kirk and Spock exchanged a swift, significant look, both jumping immediately to their feet.

"Scotty, you're Captain 'til we get back," Kirk instructed, he and Spock striding purposefully to the turbolift. "DeVult, come with us. That extra talent of yours is gonna be very useful pretty soon."

She started from her chair like she'd been electrocuted and dashed into the lift before the doors could shut.

"What's happening?" she yelped as another, more sever tremor rocked through the ship.

"You remember the lovely trip to Qo'noS?"

Dorthea frowned. "Vividly."

"Well, the happy day has come when the damn thing woke up, and apparently it woke up on the wrong side of the cargo hole."

* * *

**A/N: bah! i've been so out of it lately! but, i guarantee it'll get better, just because i haven't really had a grip on what i'm writing about for the past two chapters, but now i have a blurry outline, so we're good (also, i've discovered that having my music on isn't much help... =p). stupid writer's block. sigh. okay. i'm writing all day again today, so... you can expect more! =D and BETTER! so, please read and review!!! thanks!**


	16. Nap Time For the Hybrid

**Chapter 16 – Nap-Time For The Hybrid**

* * *

Shivers ran up and down Dorthea's arms as they stepped into cargo and she vigorously rubbed her biceps so the friction would keep her warm. Despite the warmer temperatures in the above levels, icy air froze the storage area and walking from the warmth of the turbolift directly into the chill stunned her body's reactions for a moment. The quaking down here was much stronger. Every few steps the three of them clutched to a crate or another person just to keep their balance. While it would've only taken two minutes on normal conditions, they crossed the largest section in five, their movement prolonged by the constant trembling. Kirk's path of travel led them directly to a thick metal door, not unlike a walk-in freezer's. He touched his palm to a black pad and waited for the light to flash green before jerking the large handle out and throwing open the door.

Two redshirts—one blonde, one brunette, both incredibly muscular—crouched on either side of the considerably smaller space, as if preparing to tackle the something that thrashed between them. Their heads snapped around to face Kirk, Spock, and Dorthea the instant they opened the door. The brunette nodded grimly at the blonde, who bent his knees further, and quickly straightened from his offensive position, sprinting the four steps it took to reach the captain. He spoke in a panicked rush.

"It woke up just a couple minutes ago," he panted. "We tried to calm it down, but…."

Dorthea's eyes grazed over the tall human body before her as it strained against the shackles clamped around its fists and feet. Her head tilted to the side and her eyebrow perked.

"He's just a human…" she said, confused as to why they were making such a big racket over such a puny being.

"You _wish_ it was just a human," Kirk smirked grimly. "You and Bailey can get out of here, we've got this. Go tell Bones to get down here with an anesthetic on your way up."

The brunette nodded and waved his companion over. They both saluted Kirk and then dashed out in relief, the blonde shouting "good luck" over his shoulder before slipping into the lift. Dorthea straightened her neck and peered closer at the struggling body. Purplish veins popped under beet red skin, the tendons in his wrists stuck out with the immense strength he exerted. Feral snarls were rumbling from his chest and his lips curled back over his teeth in fury.

"Well?" Kirk asked her after a minute of intense scrutiny. "Come to any conclusions?"

"He's not human?" she repeated his statement.

"I meant in his head."

Dorthea's eyes flicked over to him for a second, then fixed on the non-human again. His emotions were so strong that it blocked her, the anger forming a fiery force that repelled her instantly.

"Well… he's very, very angry."

"I hadn't noticed," Kirk said sarcastically.

She clucked her tongue and folded her arms, glaring at him. "Too angry. I can't get through. Can we calm him down?"

"Sure, when Bones gets down here."

"Why do you call him Bones, anyway?"

"I do not see how Doctor McCoy's alternative names relate to this situation," Spock interrupted, just as a wrench from the chains, followed by a vicious roar, shook the room.

The three of them slammed back into the wall, all thrown into shock from the collision.

"I don't know about conclusions," Dorthea noted dryly, "but those chains are about to rip from the floor. In case you hadn't noticed."

A cynical laugh spread across Kirk's face and he shot her a smirk before shoving off the wall and racing to the angered body. With strength that Dorthea never would have expected from him, Kirk wrapped his fingers around the chain and yanked it so that the point of pressure was no longer on the floor. Spock went to his aid, grabbing the other chain with his super-Vulcan-strength and Dorthea hesitantly followed suit, assisting on Kirk's side. She and Kirk managed to bend him down just enough to limit his thrashing to a bit less than maximum. Sweat poured from her hairline in less than thirty seconds, turning her face a deep blue-silver rather than the tomato red of Kirk's.

"So, what did you say this guy was again?" she panted, yelling over the growls that he now emitted.

"A Klingon Augment," Spock supplied, calm as usual. "The ridges on the forehead have dissolved."

"What's an Augment?" Dorthea shouted.

"It's—God, he's strong—it's a fancy word to say 'test subject'!" Kirk sucked in a large breath and pulled again.

"An Augment is a genetically engineered being created by DNA resequencing in the late 20th century," Spock reeled off.

"What he said!"

"Oh!" Dorthea readjusted her grip on the chain to keep the metal from cutting into her hands, leaned forward a little, and, locking her knees, heaved back to increase the pull.

At least ten minutes passed in which they had to fix their grips many times before McCoy arrived.

"What the hell took you so long?" Kirk bellowed, blinking sweat out of his eyes.

McCoy doubled over in the doorway, chest heaving. "Sorry," he panted. "The lift… got stuck…. Scotty… had to fix it…."

"We've been sitting here, restraining literally a SUPERHUMAN while YOU were relaxing in a TURBOLIFT?" Kirk screamed.

"What?" Dorthea yelped, releasing the chain in disbelief. "You didn't say this was a _superhuman!_"

A metallic screech tore at her ears, so incredibly loud that her vision blurred. And for half a second, the room fell completely silent.

Kirk's eyes widened. "Oh, _sh—_ uhf!"

The Augment ripped his arm away from him and he flew forward onto the floor, the chain whipping wildly through the air, completely free of its attachment. Spock moved so fast he was a streak of blue on Dorthea's eyes as he ducked out of harm's way. She couldn't move; her feet were frozen with shock in the Augment's reach. His black eyes spun rapidly around the room, undoubtedly searching for an exit. Her mind kept telling her legs to take her away, to bend, twitch, _anything_. Anything that would move her away from danger. But the signals it fired down to her limbs died out before they could reach far enough to activate any response. Her jaw hung open moronically while she stared blankly at the Augment.

It wasn't stupid, it saw her and all her weakness, the fragile look of her pallid skin clinging to her slender body. He could snap her like a twig. His eyes, bloodshot and delusional, ricocheted back and forth and then, like he'd been turned to stone, stuck on her. Saliva dribbled down his chin from all the mad screaming and his bony fingers clawed out at her, one arm still attached to the ground. Strong, safe arms bound her in a powerful grip and jerked her body away from the Augment before it could shred her to pieces. She glanced up, feeble with gratefulness, to see the blue uniform and snowy skin of Spock's collar and jaw. He held her back tight to his chest, angled away from the Augment so that his back shielded her from further advances. Giddy warmth spread through Dorthea's chest regardless of the present situation.

"The anesthetic," Spock ordered McCoy, his tone clearer than usual under the immense load of stress.

McCoy nodded, forgetting his usual snide remark, and edged along the wall so he could creep behind the Augment without being seen. Kirk kicked himself lithely onto his feet and swiftly withdrew his phaser. He fired once, twice, the settings set to stun, and the Augment only barely showed any response as it followed with catlike awareness each movement in the room. The third time, it flinched and snapped its head around to locate the source of energy that kept pelting him almost uselessly. It roared ferociously, spittle flying from its mouth like a deranged bear. Spock tossed Dorthea to the side and ran to the Augment, realizing what would happen before it did. The metallic clinking of the chains sounded ominous to Dorthea and her brain slowed down the scene before her in bleak expectation.

The wiry muscles bulged under its arms as it yanked Kirk close by the golden collar of his uniform. In the same instant, it slung the long chain around Kirk's entire neck, wrapping it twice and pulling tight with his free hand. Spock—who had intended to grab both the Augment's arms before it could act—backed away from the captor and his victim with his hands up in the air. Kirk's own hands flew to his neck while his face steadily turned from red to purple. The Augment lifted Kirk's feet from the ground, and whisked around, showcasing the hostage to McCoy, Dorthea, and then Spock, circling slowly and jerkily. In a guttural voice, it spoke.

"_chaw' jIH jaH je pagh DIchDaq qaS Daq ghaH_."

The anger had dissipated enough for Dorthea to be able to understand his thoughts.

"Let him go, and nothing will happen to Kirk."

Kirk glared at her and tried to nod. _Let nothing happen to Kirk_, he agreed. _Save Kirk._

"I believe _that_," McCoy scoffed. "We've held him captive for half a month! Like he's just gonna _let_ him go."

"We could negotiate with him," Spock said, eyes locked on his slowly suffocating friend and captain.

She glanced around at them all. "I-I-I…." she stammered, her eyes pleading for assistance. "W-what do you want me to say? I can't speak Klingon!"

"You're a great Communications officer," grumbled McCoy.

Dorthea dropped her hands indignantly. "I said not to make me work!"

"Can you not read his mind?" Spock reminded her. "Is it possible for you to pick out the appropriate words?"

Her shoulders dropped. "Oh." She glared at the Augment, rifling through the language in his head. Dorthea tried to forget her own language and allow his to make room. It worked—on a long shot.

"_maH DIchDaq vum tlhej SoH chugh SoH vum tlhej maH_."

"That works," McCoy said, his eyebrows reaching for his hairline.

Dorthea's lips spread into a reluctant smile, silver tinting her cheeks again as the Augment mulled over her compensation. _We will try to negotiate_.

"_chaw' jIH jaH wa'DIch vaj jIH DIchDaq chaw' ghaH jaH_."

"Free me first, and then I will release him."

"That is unacceptable," Spock declared. "Release Captain Kirk first, and we will release him afterward."

McCoy's eyes met Dorthea's as she let Klingon fill her head again.

"_ghobe'. ghaH wa'DIch je SoH cha'DIch_."

The doctor's voice filled her head as he shouted right at her.

_Keep him distracted, I'll get him from behind._

She blinked once in agreement as the Augment rejected the compromise. Shaking her head at Spock, she switched tactics. Kirk's face was whitening too fast for time to be wasted on arguments.

"_nuq ghaH lIj pong?_" _What is your name?_

McCoy inched his way toward the stunned Augment.

He hesitated, taken aback at the sudden question."_Qun._"

Ten steps.

She nodded. _Qun_: god, supernatural being. Made sense.

"_wIj pong ghaH_…." She paused, as there was no word for her name. "… Eliza."

Spock's eyebrows scrunched and he twisted his face to question her with his eyes.

Five steps. McCoy fiddled with the syringe.

Qun frowned, stumbling over the strange dialect with which she spoke. "Yee... lies... ah. Yeeliesah."

She couldn't help but chuckle, and then she nodded. Close enough. The Augment snapped back to his fury the second he heard the amusement.

Two steps. McCoy stretched out his arm.

_CAN'T BREATHE HERE!!!_ Kirk's voice—somewhat fuzzy in his slipping consciousness.

"_chaw' jIH jaH DaH!_" the Augment demanded. "_jIH ghaj ghobe' poH vaD vam!_" _Release me at once! I have no time for this!_

When she didn't respond—McCoy was a second from stabbing the needle into the Augment's beefy neck—he raged at her again, shaking Kirk viciously.

"_jIH ja'ta' chaw' jIH jaH!_" _I said, release me!_

Half way through the sentence, he broke off with a strangled croak. McCoy shoved the liquid into the pulsating vein that protruded from Qun's neck, and his eyes almost instantly rolled back into his head. With an unsurprisingly loud _thunk_, his body hit the floor, falling totally limp. Kirk grappled with the chain for just a minute before ripping them away from his neck and scrambling away. Purple crisscrosses in the shape of the metal coiled around his throat and he rubbed agitatedly at it until the flesh around it was red and scaly.

"Nap-time for the hybrid," McCoy said triumphantly, wiping his hands on his pants as he stepped over Qun's body.

"I'm glad you guys got that over with quickly," Kirk remarked casually, still rubbing his neck. "If you hadn't, I might be in some serious discomfort right now."

Dorthea rolled her eyes, leaving the retaliation to McCoy, which he readily took care of.

"I'm sorry, next time we'll just leave you to die. Here, let me right that down so I'll remember it…." He patted his suit down, searching for a pen. Withdrawing one from his pocket, he held it up into the light as if to inspect the blue cap for damages. Deciding it to be an acceptable tool, he snapped off the cap and quickly scrawled on his palm,

"'_Note… to… self. Let… Kirk… die_.'"

Kirk smirked and snatched the pen right from McCoy's fingers, capping it with his free hand. "We get the message."

"Captain," Spock interrupted their bickering, returning to his usual stance, hands clasped behind back, ramrod straight. "What are you intending to do with the Augment?"

Kirk looked over McCoy's arm, as he'd thrown it around Kirk's neck in a sleeper hold. He squirmed so much that McCoy had to release him, and they both straightened their uniforms. Rubbing the back of his neck, he squinted his eyes and frowned at the unconscious Augment.

"Ah…."

"Qun."

There was a moment of silence in which everyone's eyes had been trained onto Dorthea.

"What?" said Kirk and McCoy simultaneously, while Spock had settled for, "I beg your pardon?" making him finish half a second after them.

"His name is Qun." She was dead set against them calling him an _it_ or just _the Augment_.

"I apologize," Spock retracted, still staring at her with knitted brows. He turned his attention back to Kirk. "Captain, what are your intentions relating to Qun's relocation?" He paused almost undetectably before saying Qun's name.

"Um." Kirk blinked a couple times, reorienting himself, and then faced his First Officer again. "Uh, this was the safest place to keep him. I assume you have an idea, Mr. Spock?"

Spock's brown irises found Dorthea's and he spoke, though he was speaking to Kirk. "It appears that Miss DeVult has the capability of restoring Qun to a more civilized manner, which would undoubtedly be easier to communicate with. I suggest we allow him his own quarters adjacent to Miss DeVult's."

"Wow, Spock," Kirk mused. "You really _are _crazy."

McCoy was so lost in disbelief that he could do nothing but gape openmouthed at the half-Vulcan.

Dorthea's face, however, brightened. "I love that idea! I'd get my own little friend!"

Kirk snorted and immediately ducked his head. Struggling to control the laughter threatening to break through, he tried to be serious. "Are you sure about that?"

"Very!" Dorthea assured him, bouncing up and down a little bit.

Kirk and the CMO exchanged looks of doubt. "All right," he sighed, his voice sounding exactly how his thoughts did: shocked by Dorthea's stupidity. Then he marched to the door. "Leave him here for a while, we'll take care of that when the room's set up."

He was followed by a disgruntled McCoy, then Spock, who waited courteously for Dorthea to exit the room before slamming the door shut, checking to make sure it was locked before heading for the turbolift. He caught up with Dorthea fairly quickly, way before the lift where McCoy and Kirk waited impatiently. His fingertips brushed across the back of her hand like the weeks before, sending the same icy flash of heat through her skin. She tuned in instantly to his thoughts.

They weren't exactly _to_ her, but they were _about_ her.

_Fascinating._

* * *

**A/N: so i honestly want to know why every time i say i'm going to update a lot, i get caught up in some crap. it's incredibly irritating. but, i have two more chapters ready. i can't upload them at the moment because they're still in my notebook, but i will get them typed up and on here tomorrow. thanks to everyone that's reading, and please review! thank you so much!**

**p.s. thanks to:  
_http : // www . kli . org /_  
AND  
_http : // mrklingo . freeshell . org / aol / JPKlingon / uta/_  
for the translations!**


	17. A Disturbance in the Force

**Chapter 17 – A Disturbance in the Force**

* * *

Lying restlessly on top of the covers, Dorthea sprawled out in an attempt to relax. The louder the noises from the room beside hers became, the tighter her muscles squeezed, and the hotter her body grew. She incessantly flipped the pillow over to the cool side, as it warmed in a few short minutes and she couldn't sleep with hot, sticky fabric around her head. The sheets were no help either, for the sweat from her body soaked into them and they tangled hopelessly around her legs. At two in the morning she rolled straight off the bed and kicked off the blankets, pulling each one off the mattress in an annoyed huff and throwing them into the chair next to it. The scratchy fabric was much cooler than the blankets, and didn't absorb her temperature nearly as fast as the sheets had. She lay on her stomach with her head at the foot of the bed, one leg bent, hands curled inward under her shoulders. That position seemed to have the most affect and she rested her cheek on the cool, firm mattress. Her eyelids lowered shut and she sighed, finally relaxed.

_THUNK. _An enraged bellowing followed the thump that signified the eleventh collision with a heavy object and the wall. Dorthea had been counting. There was blissful silence for just a moment before super-strong fists pummeled the connecting wall.

"_chaw' jIH jaH DaH!_"

Dorthea was in a sort of exasperated awe. He'd been screaming to be released since 1500 hours that afternoon, and hadn't stopped. His vocal cords must be supernatural as well. Still, impressiveness couldn't keep her from wanting to pile a hundred pillows over her head, along with a couple pairs of earmuffs for added precaution.

Qun repeated his demand in a screech and then slammed his fist angrily against the wall. She had the suspicion that he was much more polite then he sounded; he _could_ have smashed right through it, but so far had refrained from doing so. Maybe there _was_ hope. Dorthea swung her legs over the edge of the bed and pulled on the same black sweats as the night she'd tore down to Spock's room. Maybe if she just _asked_ him to be quiet… no one tried that approach yet. The doors slid open and she let out a little squeak.

"Turn it off." Kirk's eyes were bloodshot and he was staring from under his eyelashes at her with a death glare. His chest was completely bare with baggy, dark blue flannel pants hanging loosely on his hips.

Incensed, Dorthea folded her arms. "First of all, it's a _he_. And you can't just turn a he off. Second of all, it was Spock's idea! Have him do it!"

He prodded her in the chest. "You were all right and dandy to go along with it. _Your_ project. You do it."

A growl rumbled deep in Dorthea's throat, but she pinched Kirk's rather hard bicep and dragged him to the next door to the left.

"Fine," she mumbled. "But you're coming with so he doesn't eat me."

"What makes you think I can stop him from making you into a midnight snack?" Kirk suggested grumpily.

"Because he'll turn on you next." As she spoke, the metal door hissed open and the shouting increased dramatically.

Dorthea's lips formed words, but he couldn't hear over the din.

"What?" he shouted.

"I _said, YOU GO FIRST!_"

Shaking his head, he pushed her through the door, which immediately stemmed the stream of Klingon curses. He followed her in reluctantly and allowed the door to slide shut before Qun could escape.

The Klingon Augment whipped around and apparently deliberated on the spot whether to attack or not. He compromised with himself by striding threateningly up to Dorthea so that their noses were inches apart.

"_SoH mejta' DoH Daq lIj mu'_," he hissed, features twisted in fury.

"What he say?" Kirk muttered groggily, rubbing his eyes.

"He said we went back on our word."

"There never was a word!" the captain corrected indignantly.

"I know that," Dorthea snapped, turning back to Qun and silently thanking Spock for suggesting her new method of communication. "_maH ta'ta' ghaj ghobe' leghpu' mIn Daq mIn Daq vay'_."

"_nuq 'oH SoH ja'ta'?_ _HIja' maH ta'ta'_."

Before Kirk opened his mouth, she translated. "He wants to know what we mean. He says we did."

"Tell him he passed out before we could come to terms."

"_Qun, DIchDaq SoH yIt tlhej jIH Daq po?_"

He blinked but answered, the same look of astonishment crossing his face as the night before.

"_nuq ghaH vam?_"

"_nob vo' jup_."

"What did you say?" Kirk prodded, his voice taking on the unpleasant qualities of a whine. "What did _he _say?"

"Sh!" Dorthea hushed him with a slap of her hand. "_DIchDaq SoH?_"

Qun hesitated, but his answer remained very stern. "_jIH DIchDaq. 'ach ghobe' Qot._"

Dorthea smiled. "_tlho' SoH. 'ach SoH chenmoH ghobe' wab Daq ram._"

His face scrunched into a scowl. Scouring his mind for anything that would help, Dorthea noted the mistrustful nature that laced his thoughts.

"_maH DIchDaq ghobe' Qot Daq SoH._"

Qun nodded after a minute of careful consideration and Dorthea grinned.

"Okay," she said, clapping her hands together. "Let's go."

Kirk gawked at her. "What was that?"

She steered him around and walked him out the door, crying "_QaQ ram, Qun,_" over her shoulder as she did. The second she stood in the comfort of her own quarters, she beamed at Kirk and waited patiently for his questions.

"What'd you say?" he blurted, the three-word sentence all he could manage.

"I am taking him on a tour tomorrow. In turn, he will be quiet at night."

True to his word, the only noise that now filled the halls was the normal buzzing and whirring of the_ Enterprise_.

"You offered to take him on a _tour?_" he repeated, blue eyes bulging. "So he can _map out_ an _escape plan?_"

"He won't map out an escape plan," she sighed disparagingly.

"Oh yeah? Well, yo _mom_—" He froze midsentence like he'd become a marble statue. After a couple seconds' confused silence, he stood up and shook his head like he'd just had a head rush. "Whoa… I am _so_ not used to a non-sarcastic answer…."

"Well, I can _try_ to be Bones for you," she said, surprising herself slightly by the use of his nickname. Dorthea drew herself up to full height, cleared her throat, and spoke in a deeper voice. "Yes. I am going to show him the best Jefferies tubes to escape out of."

"That was the worst impression I've ever heard," Kirk commented.

Sticking her tongue out at him, she folded her arms across her chest and shifted her weight to her left foot. A short staring match took place between them, lasting only until Dorthea's eyes burned from dryness and she was forced to blink, initiating a little jig from her so-called "captain".

"Oh yeah, I won… I won…" he sang, backing up Running-Man style.

Dorthea burst out laughing and shoved him out of the door, knocking him off his balance so that he tripped over his own feet and waved his arms like propellers.

"Get out of my room," she chuckled before the silver metal blocked his bewildered face from view.

* * *

Yawning and stretching, Dorthea wandered in such a dreamlike state onto the bridge that she caught many people wondering if she walked in by accident. She quickly smoothed her uniform down to her knees and her hair down to her waist and picked up her headset, which she slid on like a headband, pinning her bangs out of her eyes. Uhura let out a gigantic yawn next to her.

"Your new friend seems to have kept the entire crew awake last night," she poked playfully, twiddling with a control on her headset. "We could hear it all the way down in S— ah, my hallway."

Dorthea grinned sheepishly, courteously brushing off the slip. "I got him to calm down at around two."

"Still, I need my beauty sleep, ya know?" Uhura laughed and turned back to her own section.

Dorthea surveyed her scrupulously. She looked to have gotten enough beauty sleep for the entire ship. She still glowed.

"How'd you get him to be quiet?" the Communications officer asked conversationally.

"Um… I promised him a tour of the _Enterprise_."

Uhura cracked a half-smile. "Like a baby. Flash a shiny new toy in front of them and they'll snatch right at it."

"Are you speaking of Captain Kirk?"

Dorthea and Uhura spun in their chairs simultaneously, each flashing the same toothy grin at the new addition to their banter. Spock held his hands behind his back and managed a small smile.

"Good morning," Dorthea greeted softly.

"What she said," Uhura laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners when she smiled.

"Good morning to you, as well." Spock inclined his head toward Dorthea and gently took Uhura's hand in his, placing his lips softly to the skin just above her middle knuckle.

She caught the little exhalation that blew from Uhura's mouth and determinedly directed the atmosphere away from the emotional path it currently traveled.

"I wanted to say thank you," she said sincerely, gazing directly into his brown eyes. "For moving me out of the way yesterday, with Qun. I mean, that could've been me choking to death if it weren't for you."

Okay. Maybe to direct it away from _Uhura's_ emotional path and onto _hers_. But, you know…. Same thing.

"It would have been illogical for me to simply allow a colleague to be harmed when I could have prevented it."

Dorthea noticed the way the corners of his lips turned down ever so slightly as he said the word 'illogical', and even further down on 'colleague'. And she still felt like a shmuck. She just couldn't win. Sigh. No self-control. So to level her conscience, she straightened and tried to be formal.

"Is there something you required, Commander?"

Both Uhura and Spock seemed startled by the sudden shift, the only difference being that Spock didn't show it in his actions like Uhura did. His eyes merely flashed so fast that Dorthea couldn't be sure they actually did before he spoke.

"Yes, I was coming to confirm your departure for the guided exploration you had scheduled with Qun."

Dorthea rose to her feet and pushed her chair in, careful to remain cool and detached. Sliding off her headset, she dimly wondered why she'd put it on in the first place, and took her time about it to gather the miniscule portion of will she had left. Looking Spock dead in the eye, she said,

"Departure confirmed. Requesting leave of absence from today's duties while I escort Qun throughout the ship."

"Permission granted."

She allowed a small smile to show instead of a thank you.

"DeVult!" Kirk walked over with a certain jauntiness in his step. He was in a good mood. Stopping with a little bounce in front of them, he folded his hands behind his back much like Spock and looked round, taking them all in with a playful suspicion. "What evil plans are being formed over here?"

"There have been no conspiratorial suggestions that I am aware of, Captain," Spock said, unfortunately serious.

Kirk heard that too and his shoulders slumped. "You are no fun. Can't you at _least_ plot to steal my chair? Which you can't touch, by the way. But still. Baby steps." He patted Spock's shoulder and Dorthea laughed at the internal joke as Spock stiffened. Kirk smiled indulgently. "We'll bring the naughty side of you out in no time."

"I do not think that to be the wisest decision," Spock muttered jerkily.

Kirk's grin widened. "Unless someone _else_ already has…." He trailed off suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows at Uhura.

She pressed her palm to the side of his face and shoved it away, her face apathetic.

"Insubordination!" The blonde shouted, pointing his finger at her accusingly. "I could have you demoted! _Insub_—"

"Captain, we're being hailed." Uhura glanced down at the blinking light.

"Open the connection," he instructed, sobering instantaneously.

Uhura did as commanded, switching the screen on to reveal a wrinkled face and graying hair.

_Get out of his sight_. Kirk saluted the man as Spock smoothly slid in front of Dorthea, face perfectly unfathomable, blocking her from view.

"Admiral Pike," Kirk greeted, dropping his hand to his side. "I'd say it's been awhile, but it hasn't."

Pike smiled at his successor grimly. "I wish it was."

"What's with the negativity?" _Why aren't you moving?_

Dorthea remained stony-faced, unable to convey the feeling that if she moved, she'd draw Pike's attention.

"I've been ordered to check up on the cargo you acquired from the Klingon High Council," Pike informed him.

"The Augment?" The way Kirk spoke changed infinitesimally: it iced over with a fine layer of rigidity.

"Yes," said Pike. "We have received information that the degeneration process might be accelerated off-planet. At least, off normal living conditions for the base species. A more diluted dose of—"

Kirk shifted slightly to the right in attempt to draw Pike's attention away from their illegal intruder, only to have it backfire. His eyes flicked all around the room at Kirk's movement and landed on Dorthea.

"Who are you?"

"That's Spock, sir," Kirk jumped in, smiling with forced sarcasm at the Vulcan. "It's okay. You're getting senile. We have to make allowances for your memory loss."

"No, you. The girl."

"And… that is Lieutenant Uhura!" Kirk jumped in front of Spock and placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing tightly to will her to play along. "She is the Communications officer aboard this starship—"

"The _redhead_, Kirk."

"Oh, her? Th—"

"This is Petty Officer Dorthea Wilkins, second class, communications specialist."

If she hadn't been so determined not to look away from Pike and give him any reason to doubt her, she would have stared in amazement at Spock. Instead, she nodded enthusiastically.

A crease appeared on Pike's forehead. "I don't recall getting any notice on a new addition."

"I sent you a memorandum along with a complete background check approximately two months, fourteen days, twelve hours, forty-two minutes, and thirty-eight seconds ago," Spock argued. "Thirty-nine."

Pike's eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted in obvious surprise. "I will make a point to go through my received messages, Commander."

Spock nodded once. "If you require a copy of the information I can deliver that to you as soon as possible."

"Well, welcome to the _Enterprise_, Miss Wilkins." Pike tilted his head toward her.

"Thank you, Admiral." Dorthea saluted him and then fell into her seat.

"As I was saying…" he continued, again diverting his attention back to Kirk. "A more diluted dose of the KAV cure should stem the effects well enough for it to survive while leaving its... extra DNA... untouched. I'm almost certain sickbay has a stock."

"Will do," Kirk responded.

Pike nodded and with a last glance at Dorthea he disappeared, leaving the bridge completely silent.

After a minute, Spock stepped away from Dorthea and frowned at the place where Pike's face had been moments before.

"I feel that something is… off."

"That's a disturbance in the force, Luke," Kirk said wryly.

And he wasn't off by far. The air felt as thick as pea soup. This wasn't over.

* * *

**A/N: i'm so sorry! i might not have time to type up my other chapter before i leave!!!! T-T don't hate me!!! i'm going to do as much as i can tonight but i still have to pack for three weeks and bake cookies, but i'm trying really hard to hurry and type it up. i'll update again in a week, if it doesn't work out. i love you guys! thanks so much for staying by my side. please keep reading, and if it suits you, review! mad hearts! taylor-v out.**


	18. Virus

**Chapter 18 - Virus**

* * *

A blue glow radiating from the laptop on Spock's lap tinted his face a bright sapphire, his chocolate irises black in the light and darting from side to side as his fingertips brushed swiftly across the keyboard. Nonsense symbols and letters travelled speedily over the screen with every keystroke. Spock straightened his back as far as the low ceiling of the Jefferies tube he currently hid in would allow, hoping to decrease the amount of strain placed on his neck from such bad posture. He wouldn't have resorted to this last decision if being discovered didn't threaten his job—or Dorthea's confidentiality on the _USS Enterprise_. The virus he was presently writing would scramble Pike's entire hard drive efficiently enough for Spock to sneak in a faux notification-slash-background check of 'Dorthea Wilkins'. Pausing in his work for only a second, he firmly grasped his jaw and with a quick twist and a small _pop_ cracked the bone at the base of his neck, instantly relieving the built-up tension. His shoulders relaxed and the muscles in his back no longer felt compacted. A long, relaxed sigh escaped his lips and he returned to his project. He'd been working for three hours when he finally erased all tracing capabilities and sent the virus on its way. When Pike finally recruited Spock's technologic assistance, there would be absolutely no way of detecting the origin. He would make sure of it.

Spock snapped the laptop shut, eliminating the only source of light, and crawled silently to the circular door. The bright white light that burned in the halls stunned him after the complete dark before he tucked the thin computer under his arm and nearly noiselessly closed the door back up. It felt good on his cramped body to be able to stretch out the kinks and knots in his tendons, and to walk freely about the _Enterprise_. He watched other members—ensigns, crew, other faces unknown to him—pass by, communicating merrily and laughing with one another. Observing the carefree attitudes had always interested him, merely because he could not achieve such behavior. Not that he'd wanted to; just that it made no sense. He couldn't decipher the objective. Understanding that tuning in to their conversations would be a violation of privacy, he attempted to resist perking his ears. But the wave of curiosity that had filled him during his last encounter with Dorthea would not be defeated. It seized him like an incurable plague.

"…can't believe you said that to him…." Two girls, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, walking with a hurried vigor.

"…studying tonight in my quarters, so you should bring your books…." A woman, speaking nervously to a man, who couldn't keep their eyes from glinting with lust whenever they crossed the other's.

"…no, not really. The bridge is enough for me, but I suppose others would think it was boring…."

The unnaturally delicate tones were easily recognizable, so soft and almost hesitant, but they could change in an instant, as he was well aware of. She spoke in this normal tone to the tanned, lank-haired Augment walking stiffly next to her. He seemed exceptionally rigid aside her leisurely stroll. Spock subconsciously slowed his steps, feeling irritated.

"You enjoy your work, then?"

_The Augment speaks English?_

Dorthea nodded and allowed a small half-smile. "Yeah, I do."

His head inclined slightly. As he passed the two companions, Spock nodded in acknowledgement.

"Hello, Mr. Spock," Dorthea greeted him with a brightening grin, turning her body to face him and shifting her weight to one foot.

"Good afternoon." He clasped his hands behind his back and lifted his chin a little. "Will you be returning to the bridge soon?"

Her eyes flicked over to the Augment's before answering. "I'm still showing Qun around. But I'll be there as soon as I can."

Qun. The name sparked a sort of amusement in the back of Spock's highly logical brain, the part that had been infected with Dorthea's strong emotions. The affection she demonstrated toward the hostile Klingon Augment was… endearing. If that was the correct phrasing. Juvenile, naïve, and amusing.

"Have you visited Dr. McCoy?" Spock pushed, directing himself away from dangerous areas.

"For what?"

His own eyes also grazed over the Augment.

"Oh, right." Dorthea brushed her maroon bangs out of her eyes and smiled at his neck, as if making an excuse by means of her facial expressions. "The KAV cure. Um, okay. Qun, you're deteriorating. Because of whatever they've done to you back on Qo'noS. So we've got a cure for that, and I'll take you down there, but only if you want it."

Her bluntness always caught him off guard, as much as her sudden mood changes. _Qun_ seemed to handle it well. He merely stared thoughtfully up at the ceiling for a moment before answering.

"I will accept the injection."

"Okay. This way." And she marched off in the opposite direction.

Spock remained frozen for just a moment before turning back toward the turbolift to the bridge.

"Hey!" Her soft voice sounded strange when she yelled.

His body turned in a procession. First his head, then torso, then waist and feet.

"Yes, Miss DeVult?"

"Aren't you coming with?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, unable to follow her train of thought. So erratic. "I do not understand the purpose of my company."

"I don't know what to say! I'm not a doctor. You know more about it than I do—you tell them."

"It is the Klingon Augment Virus cure," Spock explained. "Instruct them to dilute it to approximately—"

"I'll probably tell them wrong and he'll die," Dorthea interrupted, a whine hinting in her voice.

"You will not, it is very simple—"

"With my luck? No." She shook her head. "You come."

He should be heading back to the bridge. Kirk had been informed of his actions for the last four hours, and allowed however much time it took. But he'd been gone for four hours. He'd shirked his duties long enough, for unrelated business. He shouldn't extend his absence.

"Please?"

Mint green, the irises surrounding her pupils blazed against the black and he caught himself visualizing the mind meld, wondering if anything had changed, contemplating what those pastel eyes might disguise. More to the fact that he couldn't stop the flood of fascination than giving in to her request, Spock tilted his head downward and approached her.

The three made their way down to sickbay with silence from Spock and Qun. Dorthea kept up a string of side comments, about the _Enterprise_, about this crew member, about 'that one time'…. Meanwhile, Spock lightly traced along the bottom of the laptop still curled in his palm, estimating that Pike's computer would have crashed by now. McCoy's voice jerked him from his thoughts sooner than expected.

"How many times am I going to see you here?" he grumbled to Dorthea, not half as serious as usual with his lips twitching upward at the corners.

"Only a few more, I promise," she smiled. "Um, so apparently our Klingon visitor is deteriorating and needs treatment. The KEV cure, or the KAB cure… something."

"The Klingon Augment Virus cure," Spock repeated, glancing doubtfully at Dorthea.

She shrugged hopelessly and mouthed the words 'I told you so'. The distinct impression that Dorthea had struggled for the sole purpose of proving her argument stuck in Spock's abdomen, but he chose to save interrogations for later.

"It is under the impression of Admiral Pike that a diluted dose would suffice."

McCoy glared at them each in turn.

"What do you want me to do about it?" he clarified after a moment of expectant silence.

"It was assumed that you would administer the injection."

"I don't have it," McCoy said. "We don't keep it in stock. Most of the time we aren't trying to heal Klingon Augments."

Qun's forehead creased and he turned to Dorthea, the red shirt she'd loaned him in great danger of ripping across the rippling muscles of his chest.

"That's not polite," she corrected McCoy hastily upon spotting the insulted look on Qun's face.

After rolling his eyes, McCoy leaned back in his chair and kicked his boot-clad feet up onto the desk.

"I can order a dose, but it'll take a couple weeks. Like I said, we don't have it on hand."

"A couple weeks," Dorthea repeated, the first time Spock had ever heard her voice _menacing_. "The deterioration process is accelerated off-planet."

With that sentence, Spock confirmed his suspicions.

"In a couple weeks he could die."

The doctor let his feet fall and leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows on the armrests and touching his fingertips to their counterparts."Well, what do you want me to do about it? Call up the Medicinal Gods and have them send down a dose because it's convenient for us?"

"If that's what it takes," she ordered softly, a threat bubbling to the surface. "If it will keep him alive, you get their number right the hell now."

"I'll just look it up in the phone book, shall I?"

"Listen to me." There was no surface of shy kindness now. Her voice was deadly quiet and she leaned forward, grabbing the armrests so tight that her knuckles turned white. "If he dies because of some _TEST_ performed on him, I will personally hunt down and _kill_ whoever stood in the way of his chance at living."

The anger that had sprouted up so quickly finally made sense. Tests. She and her sister had been tested on against their will. Of course it would affect her so deeply.

"Doctor McCoy, I advise you to order the dosage on express," Spock warned him, noting the shock in his eyes at Dorthea's abrupt hostility.

She shot daggers at the CMO before swiveling on her heel and swishing out the door, Qun at her tail. Spock and McCoy exchanged quick glances before the First Officer too departed.

Dorthea had made it to the turbolift before Spock caught her in his sight once more. He lengthened his stride so that he reached her before the door opened.

"Where is Qun?" The name made his throat clog.

"I sent him to go eat lunch," she replied stonily. "Keep up his nutrition. It might help."

"Dorthea," he murmured, as quietly as he could once the _whish_ enclosed them into the lift. "I do not think it wise to threaten any more colleagues. I am certain Captain Kirk will not tolerate it."

"I know," she huffed. "But it's not fair that he's dying because of something he couldn't control."

Spock struggled to word his sentences carefully. "It must have been traumatizing…" he began, with some degree of uncertainty lacing his words. "…to endure what you and your sister did. But—"

The turbolift jammed to a halt.

"Don't you dare say 'but' to me." Her cheeks were suddenly flushed a deep silver, her palm pressing the 'stop' button on the wall.

He'd known this would be tricky.

"Don't you _dare_ say '_but_' to me. You don't… you can't…. Have you ever been strapped to a table and had your organs prodded? Have you been injected with a chemical that would separate you into the two different races you belong to? Have you? Had your DNA split down the middle, Vulcan and human, and left for a week to see if you survive?" Whereas most people, from Spock's experience, when they become this angry, had tears streaming down their cheeks, Dorthea's were completely dry. Her voice totally calm. Not a moment of hesitation or stuttering. And it was so much worse. "Have you had to hold your little sister after an experiment that left her bleeding from the eyes and tell her that she _isn't_ going to fall into pieces, that she _wasn't_ cut apart like a puzzle, when you don't know if you're lying or not? Have you had to hold her so tight that she believed you?"

All he could do was gaze down at her.

"HAVE YOU? I'm waiting for an ANSWER!"

"I haven't." He steeled the words from his mouth.

Dorthea stepped closer. "Have you ever lost someone, Spock? Have you ever been so close to saving them, and then had them ripped from you, just like that?"

"Yes." His insides began to quake.

"Oh yeah? Yeah? Who'd you lose, Spock? Who was it?"

Clenching his fists so hard they shook, he set his jaw. "My mother."

She took another step forward. "Your mother? Really? How'd you lose her? Drop dead of her own accord?"

_SLAM!_ "SHUT UP!"

Before he knew it, Spock's chest was heaving against the blue fabric stretching across his chest, his hand pinning her against the wall. Dorthea's throat felt warm under his fingers, the pulse throbbing like a jackhammer under her skin, and so fragile, he could snap it then and there. But instead of being scared stiff or flailing, Dorthea kept reeling off dangerous questions, the speed of her words increasing with every syllable.

"Did you love her, Spock? Were you her protector? Did she keep you safe from the cruel world? Huh? She did, didn't she? She was there for you when you needed her, and you _failed_ her. You let her _die_—"

"WILL YOU _SHUT! UP!_"

He manipulated her like a rag doll, tossing her away from him in the tiny space available. The dull _thunk_ her head made against the wall didn't even phase him, nor her. She hefted herself up and wiped a trail of silver from her lip where her tooth had cut into it, glaring at him as if to egg him on further.

"You have no idea what you are talking about," Spock snarled at her.

"Really? Then tell me. Tell me what it was like, when you watched the life leave her eyes. You just sat there and _watched_ her die, some protector—"

Some part of him exploded, and his vision blurred in a mad greenish haze. He snatched her collar and shoved her against the wall with a _thud_. His fist pulled back, all of his strength building in that one arm.

"You. Know. NOTHING!" he bellowed. "YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HER! NOTHING ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED! YOU DON'T!"

"See?" The anger left her face, replaced instead with a shattering despair. "It doesn't feel good to have someone tell you what you already know. To repri_mand_ you for it."

The haze disappeared, making way for shame. His hands fell to his sides and he turned away in disbelief and disgrace. He'd lost control. More than that, he'd harmed someone. A _girl_ someone. He would have killed her….

"No," he agreed. "It does not."

"I don't mean to hurt you, Spock," she said, and from the way her voice grew louder in his ear, he could tell she was cautiously approaching him. "I don't want to. I'm sorry for it."

"As am I." He was still so full of hatred for himself, he could barely speak.

"But I am telling you right now, never say that to me again."

Spock twisted his head around so he could see her blurred outline from the corner of his eye.

"It would be wise for you to do the same."

"I would think so," she said, her voice returning to the usual delicate tone. A smile spread across her face. "I was seriously worried for my life there for a minute."

It was a joke. Spock knew this. But he couldn't help but nurse a fear that a couple more seconds and she wouldn't have had a life to worry about.

* * *

**A/N: DUDES!!! I'M BACK! lol. it feels so good to be back and updating again... i've been gone for so much longer than i thought. gah. lol. i've missed you all! lmao. well, anyway... so it's currently 12:15 AM. and i don't know if it's a little too late and i'm high on time or what, but i'm ECSTATIC for this chapter. i think it's a fitting return. LOL! yeah, i think i'm a little hyped up. =P anyway, please read and review! it would be such a nice present!!! lol. mad hearts!!! I LOVE YOU ALL!!! sorry for my absence! (yeah, definitely hyper....) okay, again, read and review! hope you like!!!**


	19. Bruised

**Chapter 19 – Bruised**

* * *

A shadow crossed under Dorthea's jaw in the morning after the confrontation, so with eyes bleary in sleep, she tipped up her chin to inspect the damage. Violent purple and blue splotches blossomed across her skin, the colors clashing and turning her normally pale complexion pallid. If she peered very closely, like two-inches-away-from-the-mirror close, she could see the individual patches that were darker than the others and exactly matched the structure of Spock's fingers. So severe was the bruising that it looked like a band of paint winding all the way around her throat. Her own fingertips traced along the trail of blue in a sort of surprised disbelief, making her stomach turn. Moving her hand upward along her skull, she cringed as she brushed a large lump just above her ear. A darker patch of scalp shone under from the hair when she craned her neck to see. Indeed, a giant knot protruded a couple of centimeters off the surface where she'd collided with the wall. Dorthea sighed. The injuries would be difficult to cover up—even if she'd had access to foundation, or knew how to use it. Instead, she swept her hair in front of her shoulders and hoped for a miracle. There was nothing she could do.

Strange looks accumulated as she passed other crewmembers in the hallway, just to the turbolift. By the time the doors shut and the lift hurtled upward, she'd wrapped her hands around her neck self-consciously and glared down at the tip of her boots. She reached the bridge with a _whish_ from the hydraulics and walked forward with her eyes still glued to the floor.

"DeVult!"

Her eyes shot up wildly and she found herself almost nose to nose with Captain Kirk.

"Um. Good morning," she mumbled jerkily. Moving to walk around him, a hand wrapped around her shoulders and steered her the other way, back into the lift.

"Walk with me. Talk with me."

"I have to…." Dorthea glanced hopelessly back at the bustling room that quickly disappeared from view.

Kirk folded his arms across his chest, wrinkling his golden Captain's uniform. He smiled serenely.

"Hi." His grin widened.

Dorthea gazed at him warily, feeling the sudden outbreak of sweat between her hands and neck. Her insides lurched. "Hi…."

"Do you want to tell me what this is?" Kirk unfolded his arms and touched a spot on the metallic wall of the turbolift. It had been bent inward, like the concave side of a wrinkled, dry contact lens, and if she placed her head against it she felt it would fit perfectly.

Her eyes glanced upward for half a second. "_I_ dunno…." The innocent look she'd worked up seemed just as effective as it felt.

"Do you want to try that again?"

"Nooo…."

Kirk narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure? Because it doesn't fit Spock's explanation."

"Tattle-tale," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" He leaned forward and cupped his hand around his ear.

"I said 'tall tales'. He's telling you tall tales."

"Nice try, kid."

Dorthea scowled. "How come he can lie to Pike but he can't lie to _you?_" she snapped irritably.

"Because I'm just that good." He flashed a cocky grin, which she instantly returned with a sharp glower.

"Let me see your neck."

"No." She fell back on her left foot.

"Show me your neck, Officer," he repeated, employing his Captain-voice. "That's an order."

"No!" Dorthea whipped around on her heel and huddled into a corner, ducking her head between her knees and throwing her arms over her neck.

"You wanna play Hardball?"

A sudden breeze ruffled her hair: the doors opened.

"I can do that," he growled, and sliding his arms under her feet, Kirk lifted with his legs and carried her right out of the turbolift.

Tiles flashed past in random breaks of white that she could see from under his arm, for she still had her neck covered. The rocking motion with which he carried her while walking nauseated her stomach severely and she gulped in air in an effort to keep its contents down.

"Where are we going?" Her voice was muffled in his sleeve.

"Sickbay."

"Why sickbay?"

"Because," he answered briskly. "I was taking you down there anyway."

"Why?"

"Are you kidding me?" With one quick movement he turned her over and stared doubtfully into her eyes. In the same movement, Dorthea clutched her throat to hide the incriminating evidence. Frowning for a moment, she eventually muttered,

"Touché."

"Besides. It'll be easier to see if there's someone there restraining you."

And she began to squirm.

* * *

"Bones?" Kirk shouted desperately almost two minutes later, standing halfway down the hall from sickbay.

The CMO came running, skidding to a stop and searching wildly for the distress. He dashed over to them and held his hands up awkwardly to assist.

"What's going on?"

"She won't stop—flailing around." Kirk hefted Dorthea's wriggling body up farther with his knee so he wouldn't lose his grip.

"That's it?" Bones scoffed, dropping his arms.

"Do you see this?" Kirk snapped breathlessly. "Take her feet."

Bones did as instructed, though not without the usual stream of disgruntled mutterings. They carried her together into sickbay and over to the nearest gurney, sitting her down with a soft _puff_ from the cushion. In the instant she touched solid ground, Dorthea made to scramble away, clawing over the stretcher and down toward the floor.

"No, you don't," Kirk grunted, yanking her back up. Slamming her back down on the cushion while Bones fetched some restraints, Kirk seized her shoulders and stared directly into her eyes. "Why is it so important that we don't see it?" he cried exasperatedly.

She didn't answer, but shut her eyes and wiggled some more.

"DeVult! Look at me." His grip tightened on her arms so the tips of his fingers turned chalky. "Why is it so important?"

Again, she ignored him, gnawing instead on her lip and jerking incessantly.

"Hey!" He gave her a shake. "I order you to answer me!"

"No luck?" Bones observed, holding the leathery straps in his hands with an air of uncertainty.

"I don't know," Kirk answered with a frown. "She won't even look at me."

"She looks pale," the doctor observed. After dropping the straps on the bed, he touched his hand to her forehead. He jumped, as if he were shocked. "Jesus, she's burning up!"

"What?" Kirk placed his own hand against Dorthea's head. Just as Bones said, her skin burned his own.

Bones returned in an instant with a thermometer, sticking it into her ear and holding her relatively still until it beeped.

"One-oh-two," he hissed through his teeth."Check her pupils," he instructed before racing off again.

Kirk hesitated for half a second, then quickly bound the straps around her wrists. Dorthea's twisting swiftly became thrashing. The bed shook with the force of it. Kirk climbed onto the gurney and grabbed her face between his hands, using his thumbs to pry open her eyelids. Her left pupil was dilated, the other shrunken to a size considerably smaller.

"Bones!?" he yelled over his shoulder.

"Are they uneven?"

Kirk stole another look. "Yeah! A lot!"

The moment he spoke, Dorthea leaned forward, popping her shoulders in their sockets, and vomited. A terrible ripping sound came from inside her throat as air was pushed up with all of her stomach acid and breakfast, spilling hot and sticky all over Kirk's lap.

"Is she nauseous?" Bones called from his office, oblivious to the retching noises coming from the woman.

"I don't know, you tell me." Twisting gingerly, his nose wrinkled in disgust, he showed off his ruined shirt.

The man rushed back in, a bunch of different bottles and hyposprays jumbled in his hands.

"Post-concussion syndrome," he muttered to himself, nodding and hurrying over to Dorthea's side. The sprays made clattering noises on the counter and he picked up a first blue one. Aiming directly for her neck, he froze. He leaned forward. "Look at those bruises…" he whistled softly. "What happened?"

"She provoked Spock."

The Captain and the CMO exchanged dark looks. Bones lifted the spray up to her neck—

"_Don't touch me!_" Grating, terrified, the words rasped from Dorthea's throat and she strained against the straps even harder, the muscles in her neck bulging as she leaned away from the needle.

"It's okay, Dorthea." Soothing a mentally incapacitated person wasn't Kirk's best talent. "It's okay… you're fine. Bones is just gonna make you feel better—"

"You think I don't know what you're doing? You… you're _experimenting_… on me, and everyone else here…." The rambling tumbled from her mouth like a waterfall. "We know, we're going to stop you—don't TOUCH me—you won't get away with this, you… you…. You're sick, and disgusting, and horrible. I hope you BURN in your own CHEMICALS!"

"What is she _talking_ about?" Kirk exclaimed, starting to become a little panicky himself.

Meanwhile….

Hands as cold as ice held her wrists with a vice-like grip, pinning her down like an eagle with impossible ease, despite all of her struggling. Dorthea tore at their white suits with her teeth, clawed with her nails, kicked and swung her arms and legs. Anything she could do to harm them, to escape, she would do. She knew Eliza was counting on her, and it was only a couple more days, but the tests were growing steadily in pain. It was becoming harder and harder for her to hold onto that fire in her black cell, the thought that she would escape with her sister in just ninety-six hours. Despair and resignation sucked at her, blurring her outline until she couldn't tell what was her and what was the prison. All seemed lost, except when she saw 'liza's face. However damaged it had become in their weeks as captives, however lank her hair, however thin and gangly her body, however pallid and bony her cheeks, she was still Eliza. Still her little sister. And she still counted on her. And, God dammit, if it was the last thing she did, Dorthea would save her.

White light blazed above her, blinding her to the suited figures on either side of the table. One clambered over and slammed her fists down to the table's edge so it could tie her down. She fought against it as hard as she could, but she felt so weak, and tired, and _nauseous_…. Its long, gloved fingers pressed against the side of her head, the thumbs stretching to her eyes. She clamped them shut, but was too weak compared to him. The second figure approached her with an armful of different tubes and bottles, exchanging nonsense words with its companion. Her vision blurred and she struggled harder, leaning away from the oncoming needle in desperation.

"No," she mumbled. "No, don't touch me, no…."

It got closer and closer, finally pressing to the sensitive skin of her throat, and made a soft _click_. A stinging ache extended out from the point of injection and her body grew weaker, heavier, like her limbs were being filled with sand. All of a sudden, the soft pillow looked extremely tempting. She lowered her head, almost willfully, onto the fluffy white, and blinked furiously, the voice in the back of her mind screaming at her to not give up. Her eyelids fluttered and Dorthea ceased to fight, with only the comforting thought that it would all be over soon to guide her into a drug-induced unconsciousness.

The room flickered with a last quiver of her lashes.

A savior. Deep black, silky hair, running to the nape of his neck in neat bristles. Marble white skin, pointed eyebrows and ears, chocolate dark irises, moving so fast the heavenly image blurred into a streak of blue. Inside, Dorthea's brain raged against the drug, pushing for consciousness so that she may keep the vision in her sight.

* * *

Spock entered sickbay with his nose pointed down at a thick file brimming with paper. Kirk had departed for the ward only minutes ago, but something in Spock's research of recent Klingon political affairs caught his eye, and he thought Kirk's opinion would be of some value. A missing time period, a hole in the records, perhaps a glitch in the system?

He could hear the Captain's voice conversing somewhat critically with someone else, presumably Doctor McCoy.

"Captain," he interrupted the conversation, still frowning at the words. "I believe there has been a mistake in—"

Finally glancing upward, Spock's throat locked. Kirk's once-golden uniform was covered with vomit, Bones' arms were stuffed with medical supplies, and Dorthea was struggling against a pair of leather straps tying her to a gurney, her face flushed with a sickly green color.

"May I inquire as to what is going on?" He set the folder down on a second bed, allowing his hand to linger for a moment.

"You broke her!" Bones exclaimed angrily, tossing away one tube and grabbing another.

"Broke—?" Spock twitched his head to the side uncomprehendingly.

"Post concussion syndrome," the doctor continued. "When you threw her into a wall!"

He switched his gaze to Kirk, who nodded. "Fever, puking, crazy pupils…. All that good stuff."

"And she won't stay still to let us fix it!" growled Bones, forcefully grabbing Dorthea's jaw and applying a second hypospray. "She just keeps saying 'don't touch me'."

Kirk's attention drifted from Dorthea to Spock, like he knew Spock would understand, even if the two of them didn't. "She went off on a tangent about experiments."

"We're not experimenting on you!" cried Bones exhaustedly to an oblivious Dorthea.

"It is not her intention," Spock informed them, swinging himself over the bed in his hurry and landing gracefully next to her. "She is hallucinating."

"Dorthea." His tone was strict and demanding as he leaned forward and tipped his head to see up into her eyes. "Dorthea, can you understand me?"

"Who's Dorothea?" Kirk wondered.

"Dorthea—without the second 'o'," Spock corrected absently, gripping her forearms.

"Okay, who's _Dorthea?_"

Kirk's question went ignored.

"Dorthea, I am Spock. Do you comprehend? Do you know who I am?"

Her racing eyeballs twitched to a stop, fixated on his under her sweat-drenched bangs.

"Dorthea?" His hands moved up to her shoulders, encouraging her awareness further. "What is my name?"

There was silence, but for the sharp, ragged breaths she drew in.

"Dorthea!" Urgency slipped through the crack she'd made in his emotional shield since her arrival and rose the volume of his voice as Spock seized her face, pulling her closer to him. "Dorthea, _answer me._"

The mint irises twitched again, first left, then right, then stabilizing. Her neck fell weak, allowing her head to drop backward like an infant's, and her eyes rolled up into her skull.

* * *

**A/N: You guys, seriously, I love you guys. You make my teeth chatter. That's how much I love you. I woke up and checked my story (because I have no life and that's what I do =P) and I read all your reviews and reread them and reread them and it just made my day. And I have BAND CAMP. I'm gonna be bragging about my awesome readers all week. I'm gonna see some random old lady on the street and be like, HI! I HAVE AWESOME READERS! =D Lol, anyway, to convince you I'm not drunk =P (because it's bad, kids. Drink responsibly.) I'm going to type with a multitude of proper words. I have to admit that this particular section is not my preferred chapter, despite the fact that it is QUITE endearing. I do wish that it may have been written more to my liking, but it was complicated to simply locate the words to accurately describe the image in my mind. Okay. Done with that. If you couldn't get it from all the funky wording: i love this chapter, because it's just SO DANG CUTE! but i wish i could've shown you the images in my head better. Sigh. Anyway, please read and review! thanks to all who read, extra thanks to those who review! hope you like, mad hearts. taylor-v out.**


	20. Faded and Meditated

**Chapter 20 - Faded and Meditated**

* * *

Time had blurred so dramatically that Dorthea couldn't remember how exactly she got into this situation. Little pieces still existed in her brain, it was possible to recall them from the back corners of her subconscious.

* * *

_Bones stood before her after she'd resurfaced from the seizure, indicating an area on an X-ray of her brain that seemed indistinguishable from the rest to her._

"_It's a cerebral contusion on your occipital lobe," he explained. "Normally they fade on their own, but the intracranial pressure is too much and it's crushing the brain tissue. We'll have to reduce it through surgery."_

"_Or?" she mumbled. She was having trouble enunciating._

"_It will cause a brain herniation. The severity of the contusion will result in an equally severe herniation and you will die."_

_Dorthea glanced over at Spock, who hadn't left her side or met her eyes since his arrival, in disbelief._

"_The surgery is scheduled to take place in one hour."_

_--_

_Red locks cascaded to the floor in heaps, leaving a pile of maroon hair on the tile. Tears streamed down Dorthea's face as twenty long years of persistence fell to waste._

"_We have to do this," Bones reminded her solemnly as the razor in his hand buzzed over her skull._

"_I know," she sobbed. "B-but it took fore-ever to gr-row-w."_

_He let out a chuckle at her reasoning, reducing Dorthea into a mess of salty water._

_--_

"_How do you like the Enterprise so far, Eliza?" a masked surgeon asked as he gently worked the contusion._

"_Um… it's good," Dorthea responded, still a little dazed that someone was poking around in her head in the literal sense._

"_What's the best part?"_

_She knew he kept her talking for medical reasons, so she complied. Otherwise she would've preferred to keep her mouth and eyes closed._

"_I think, my colleagues."_

"_Wiggle your toes for me," said another._

_She did as instructed._

"_Yes, you work in the bridge," recalled the surgeon. "And you enjoy Captain Kirk's presence?"_

_Smiling, Dorthea almost nodded before remembering that she couldn't. "Very much."_

"_I don't know how you can work with Commander Spock," the second surgeon piped. "He's too emotionless for me. It's nerve-racking."_

"_He's not emotionless," Dorthea contested. "You just have to get him to show it. How do you think I ended up in here?"_

_The team laughed, but Dorthea couldn't be sure they knew she wasn't joking._

_--_

_The turbolift doors hissed open and Dorthea gingerly stepped over the threshold, the entire room falling silent. In the center, a head twisted around the back of the captain's chair._

"_Ah. Welcome back, Officer DeVult." Kirk's blue eyes sparkled with delight though his expression was cool and collected._

"_It's nice to be back," she assured him, moving to her station slowly so as to not jostle her heavy head and cause another of the pressure headaches she'd been getting lately. She fidgeted self-consciously with the red bandana wrapped around her pale skull to hide the dusting of red fuzz that now sprouted from the follicles after two weeks of recovery._

"_How are you?" Uhura asked timidly when Dorthea joined her._

"_Um, I'm fine. Other than the fact that I have a hole in my skull and am bald, I mean." The half-Mari smiled genuinely at Uhura. "Thanks for asking."_

"_Ve have missed your poker skills vhile you vere gone," Chekov added, a sweet half-smile crossing his flushed cheeks._

"_Aye," Scotty agreed sarcastically. "I just loved having my arse kicked every night."_

_Dorthea laughed and then held her head. "Ow, don't make me laugh. Too much shaking."_

_--_

"_Spock, talk to me! You're driving me crazy."_

_He ignored her, flipping through a stack of papers with an air of determination._

"_Spock, for the love of all that is holy, say something! Why won't you talk to me?"_

_The First Officer shuffled the papers then turned away to pick up another file. Dorthea swung around and placed herself in his line of sight._

"_Spock!"_

_His chocolate eyes finally met hers. Her entire first day back at work he hadn't spoken to her, much less made any sort of contact. Relief washed over her when he finally opened his mouth._

"_Captain Kirk, may I be allowed a short break?"_

_Dorthea exhaled sharply and narrowed her eyes._

_Kirk leered over his chair. "What's wrong, Spock? You don't take breaks."_

"_I seem to be unable to focus. I am distracted and I believe meditation would assist in regaining my attention."_

"_Uh, sure."_

"_I shall return within the hour, Captain." Spock stood and immediately departed._

"_What'd you do?" Sulu asked jokingly to Dorthea._

_She opened her mouth, but couldn't make any sound come out. Looking to Kirk for help, he waved her on._

"_Go on, go on," he sighed exasperatedly. "Who needs a First Officer or Communications specialist anyway?"_

"_What am I," Uhura snapped indignantly, "a statue?"_

"_Of course," Kirk grinned._

* * *

The closer to the present the memories were, the easier it was to recall them, and the more detailed they became.

After Dorthea left the bridge, she headed straight down to Spock's quarters and entered without knocking.

"I do not wish to be disturbed," he said icily from the middle of the floor where he sat with his hands on his knees, back ramrod straight, lights off with the exception of a few orange candles placed strategically around the room.

"Too bad," she snapped right back. "Tell me why you won't talk to me."

"I do not have to explain myself to you. I am your superior."

"Oh, bite me." Dorthea strode over to him and plopped down in front of him. "Don't give me that crap. Now what's wrong?"

Spock uncrossed his legs and stood up. "It is none of your concern," he snarled, turning his back and blowing out the nearest candle.

"Uh… yuh-huh!" she argued. "I deserve to know why you won't speak to me."

A trail of shimmering grey smoke spiraled up from the second candle.

"What is it?" Dorthea cried irately. "Is it because of the contusion? Because that's whatever, Spock! It happened. It wasn't your fault, I provoke—"

"Of course it is not my fault," he growled, whipping around.

Dorthea blinked. Whoa. This was different then how she'd always heard it went. Wasn't the boy supposed to agonize over his mistake? It knocked her off her train of thought.

"You are a stupid, selfish, immature _child_," Spock spat, eyes blazing with fury. "You pushed me to an edge that you knew was dangerous for the both of us. _You_ are the reason for the injury. I am humiliated and dishonored, and I feel guilty for losing control and hurting you when the fault was not mine to claim in the first place. Now I am faced with humiliation and embarrassment for myself and my family name _and _hold the responsibility of insuring your good health. You have the same ability to bring out the human in me as Captain Kirk, possibly stronger. I will not speak to you because I do not wish to. You have insulted me deeply."

All she could do was stare as a bubbling hot feeling surged through her body. Spock's chest rose and fell rapidly and he pointed to the door.

"Please leave."

Suddenly, Dorthea's arms were wrapped around his neck, cementing herself to him. She buried her face into the crook of his neck and tightened her hold.

"What is this?" The icy edge to his tone melted with the surprise of her actions.

"Mmm sm-mm," she muttered into his skin.

"I do not understand you."

Lifting her face, she repeated: "I'm sorry."

Spock hesitated, the gesture completely inappropriate. She violated his personal space to the most extreme possible, but it did not feel as if it would harm him. Her embrace tightened and she again placed her cheek against his shoulder. The movement confused his mind, and his own arms wound around her midriff.

"I accept your apology," he forgave awkwardly.

With his words, Dorthea released him and backed up a few steps. To his intense shock, he found that he did not want to let her go.

"I didn't think about the effect it would have on you." Her mint green eyes were smoky with sincerity in the half-darkness. She felt completely and utterly terrible.

"It is… forgivable," Spock allowed. "Even the most emotionless Vulcan may lose his control. We mustn't dwell on what cannot be changed."

She took that to mean even the best made mistakes and it lightened her guilty heart considerably.

"Thank you," she said, bowing her head in respect.

"You are quite welcome." After a second of silence, Spock relit the candles. "I have yet to meditate," he said pointedly, "as I was interrupted previously."

"Oh, uh, yeah." Dorthea stumbled backward toward the door. "Sorry. Um, I'll go then."

Circling on her heel, she hurried to the door and it _whoosh_ed open. Just as she took a step out, his voice called her back.

"How is your head?" Spock asked, eyes now closed and sitting back in his meditative position.

"A little achy," she admitted reluctantly, tugging on the tie of her bandana. "It's sensitive, so I keep getting pressure headaches, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"Meditation would help clean your mind of pain. It only exists if you believe it does."

"I'll have to try it sometime," she said.

Spock's eyes opened and he slowly met her gaze. "Perhaps you would join me now? So you will not suffer throughout the day."

Dorthea couldn't help it; she fell right at his side and imitated his position.

"Sit facing me," he instructed, closing his lids again.

She adjusted herself so that their knees touched.

"And give me your hands."

Her mind went wild. Physical contact would mean easier access to his own mind. Of course, if she was trying to clear hers, another head wouldn't be so helpful. Her intentions twisted and raged in a quick battle before she held out her palms. He lightly set his own on the tops and gently curved his fingers around hers, making her breath catch in her throat in excitement.

"Now. Close your eyes and clear your mind of everything."

It wasn't that she didn't try, but random thoughts kept popping into Dorthea's head. She had horrible self-control, and if someone said not to think a certain thing, she couldn't help but do it. She found this to be incredibly frustrating.

"You are not clearing," Spock observed calmly.

Her face twisted into a grimace. "It's not my fault. I can't do it. My brain isn't cooperating. It's angry with me."

Spock's eyebrow quirked and his eyes opened to gaze at her doubtfully. "It is angry with you?"

"Yes." She stuck out her lip and pouted. "Obviously I've done something to upset him."

"Who?" Dorthea's ramblings were incredibly illogical and frying Spock's own brain.

"My brain! Aren't you listening?"

He blinked once, twice, three times before responding. "Your brain is a male?"

"Duh." Dorthea stared at him like he was incompetent. "A female wouldn't be so frustrating."

"That is debatable," Spock commented dryly.

After a couple minutes during which Dorthea released a few choice words, she let go of his hands and flopped them onto the floor. "I give up," she whined.

"That is not acceptable." Spock's tone was firm and commanding. "I will assist you this time, in order to train your mind. However, I will expect a more efficient attempt tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Her eyebrows lifted in shock.

"You will report to my quarters this same time tomorrow. I believe this meditation will help you through recovery. And it is the least I can do."

Excitement flooded Dorthea's body, making her blood boil and her temperature rise. But, to be polite—and hear the request one more time, to be sure it wasn't wishful thinking, she mumbled, "You don't have to…."

"I am aware of this." Without further ado, he lifted his hand and placed his fingers on the familiar indentations of her face, activating a mind meld.

Of course, Dorthea did nothing to stop him. Having a connection so deep with him felt incredible and made her skin sizzle with electricity. She longed for it with a fire that filled her body like liquid flame, ridding her entire insides of anything but the desire that fueled said fire. But, like a bucket of water sloshing over her and soaking into her flesh, Spock swiftly and smoothly cleaned her mind of any thought, any substance at all, and took it with him as he departed. And it felt strange, in the very back of her mind where her voice had been caged, when there was no reaction to him, or anything else for that matter. She felt like a helpless soul trapped inside a shell that she couldn't gain complete access to and it made her mentally squirm. Relief of the emptiness came in the form of Spock's hands, gripping hers tight once more and causing that odd, icy fire to stand her hair up on end. Unfortunately, the reaction was all physical. Inside her mind, she thought nothing of the contact.

"Now that your mind is clear…." His voice sounded somewhat muffled, like she was listening through a glass jar. "…allow yourself to fall into nothingness."

The prickling of fear crept up her arms. "What if I—"

"You will resurface," he assured her. "And _keep your mind clear_. Do not allow fear to overcome you."

Dorthea peeked open her eyes for one last glance and caught his brown irises locked on hers.

"I will not let you slip, Dorthea."

The abrupt surge of emotion she felt radiating from him set her skin off like a livewire, little zaps of static electricity jolting up through her appendages and limbs, all heading to her chest until they touched her heart. It stopped for not a second before kicking into overdrive, like it couldn't decide which speed to beat at. Sputtering like an aged engine, it thumped unevenly against her sternum and then fell into the usual rhythm. Trust pulsed through her at his words and her body fell into a blissful relaxation.

"What do I do?" she asked, shutting her eyes once more.

"Behave as if you were to fall asleep. When you feel consciousness ebbing away, let it take you only so far. Do not drift into sleep. Try to find the state between the two and remain there. I will be here to wake you."

Fear no longer posed a problem, and she did exactly as he instructed, which wasn't hard, as there was nothing in her head to distract her. It seemed as simple as going to sleep. She could see the dark behind her lids growing deeper, like she was travelling forward at a great speed into the depths of her own head, and when she could no longer hear the hum of the spacecraft, but was aware of her surroundings, she jerked herself to a halt. Her joints were strangely disconnected, like she'd turned into a jellyfish and was perfectly content to just float around in the nonexistent void of her mind, and she found that Spock had been right. The pain in her upper neck and temple simply… faded away.

* * *

**A/N: yo! summer's drawing to a close, as much as it makes me cry to think... and i'd like to give a formal apology before it starts. i am taking an extra class this year, an AP, meaning that my school schedule is one class over the limit. i am also in cheerleading and colorguard, and while colorguard is in the mornings, cheerleading isn't, and i will have a boatload of homework this year (my parents don't allow fluff classes, and neither do i. so there. =P) so my free time is going to be seriously cut down. i've realized that i have a lot to balance (thanks to arri-chan, who recently helped me through a really tough time and i love her so much), with my overflow schedule, two activities, my boyfriend, my friends, and i need a job, and i'm going to have to do some serious organization of my life for next nine months. i am not giving up on my writing. know that. with everything that i do, i always find time to make it work. i will not abandon dorthea!!!!! lol. but, sadly, updates will definitely become more spaced out. hopefully not few and far between, but i'm working with what i can. please bear with me and don't grab the pitchforks and torches just yet. i love you guys. you keep me writing. i hope it isn't too long before you hear from me again. i hope you like this chapter. =) taylor-v out.**

* * *


	21. Silence

Star Trek: 2009  
Everlong, by Taylor-V  
Chapter 21  
Silence

_A quick little note (full A/N found at the end)_

As of right now, this story is going to be moving faster than life, so if you're thinking to yourself, what the heck? Why is this happening so fast? Life doesn't happen this fast! She sucks at life, this is the reason: I don't want to bombard you with chapters, because the really important parts will be a lot of chapters. I don't want to kill you with chapters, AND I really want to get to work on other stories, and lots of chapters will postpone those other stories. So for now, it's moving fast. Enjoy the quickness!

* * *

It seemed as if time was attempting to outrun her life. Of course, it might've been the sleeping pills, but she thought not. Dorthea studied her reflection in the mirror. Spiky red locks stuck up in all directions and she tugged lightly on one particular spike sticking straight up from her bangs. It'd been… awhile… since she began meditation with Spock. No longer did her head ache with every movement, and no longer did everyone stare at her wherever she went. The incident belonged to the past, and the fingers that pulled it back from their memories. Of course, her genetics sped the usual half-millimeter growth rate to about one-and-a-half millimeters, but it still took two months for the silky maroon color to be able to style into an acceptable look. As much as she hoped to deny it, Dorthea did care what her hair looked like. She'd always valued her hair very much. At home, many Mari admired the long sheet that previously touched her waist. They'd stroked it, braided it, complimented it over and over again. How would they react if they saw her now?

How would Eliza react?

The girl had been missing for at least four months, with no sign or sound. Dorthea suffered in silence, she could do nothing but search with the _Enterprise_'s pace. It provided the best passage she could acquire, and she was not about to turn it down. But her sister's face haunted her still, every moment, in every dream. On countless occasions, Spock had been ordered to her room to clear her mind so the screaming would cease.

"Does the meditation not help in this?" he would ask, rubbing her temples for her.

And she would glare balefully at him before shaking him away. "I need sleep."

He would leave, and she would return to her nightmares.

And this did nothing to ease the fact that Qun was quickly deteriorating. His skin yellowing, muscles thinning, eyes clouding. Dorthea watched him speak more attentively now, and she could pick up tiny things. He stumbled over words more than he used to, his energy waned easily. Yet she could do nothing but sit and observe as he died right in front of her very eyes. Not until that vaccine came, and according to Bones (she visited him every day now, for rehabilitation) it would be a while.

"We don't have a while," she snapped one day as he removed the stickers from her temples. Qun had passed out earlier, just standing in line with her at lunch.

"You've said this a million times," Bones sighed, packing away the machine with a practiced routine. "And I've said it a million and one. There's nothing I can do."

"Have you talked with the delivery guys yet?" Dorthea hopped off the table and roughly spiked her hair into the usual twists and tangles with her fingers.

"It's not their problem." He sat back into his cushioned chair and scooted over to his office. "It's the production!" He called out as he scribbled something onto a label. "Diluting the solution is presenting a bigger problem than they'd originally expected."

Dorthea stomped her foot and crossed her arms. "How hard is it to add water?"

Striding calmly over to her, he slapped a refill of the pills into her palm, which she immediately stuffed into a pocket of the belt strapped loosely around her waist. "It's a bit more complicated than just adding water." He gave her a friendly smile and also folded his arms while she glared, tongue in cheek.

"Aren't they professionals?" she grumbled in defeat.

"Yes, but with _you_ breathing down their necks I can't blame them for taking their time. If they mess it up, you'll tear their heads off."

She paused, scowling up at him. "True."

Bones laughed and returned to his office. "Now. Go back to work. And—try to wean off those pills, yeah? They're not good for your system in long periods of use."

"Yeah, yeah. See you tomorrow." Dorthea trudged out of sickbay and into a turbolift, promptly popping two of the turquoise capsules into her mouth and swallowing them dry. The aching in her head was starting up again.

A relatively refreshed Klingon Augment welcomed her as the doors slid open.

"What are you doing up?" she scolded fondly, and despite the anger wrapped her arms around his neck. He leant into the hug much more than usual, worrying her even more, if that was possible.

"I rested like you ordered, and I deduced that it would be a pleasant surprise for you to see me well."

Dorthea's lips trailed up in one corner. "How… thoughtful of you. You were right: I am happy to see you up." _Alive, at least…._ "But don't you think you could do with a bit more?"

"My body feels physically fit."

"Liar." Dorthea frowned, taking his hand in hers and leading him away from the lifts and to the Communications system. To her intense surprise, she felt his palm warm and heard his thoughts jumble. A blush crept into her cheeks and she smoothly released her grip, putting it off like a simple gesture while furtively sneaking looks around the bridge to check if anyone noticed.

Qun's forehead wrinkled and his mouth turned downward. His fingers found hers again and forcefully took hold.

"Um… Qun, I—"

In a fluid movement, he swept her into his arms and carried her right back out of the bridge and right back into the lift, to which he sat her back down and backed her into the wall. Dorthea steadied herself against the glowing blue and white steel so she wouldn't knock her head. He placed his hands just above her shoulders and leaned in.

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey." She pressed her palms flat against the broad expanse of his torso. "Qun… I don't think—"

But his lips, cold and hard, like ice, captured hers, if only just for a moment before he pulled back and studied her eyes for a reaction.

Dorthea sucked in both of her lips and stared down at her shoes.

"Um. Qun…."

Rather than backing away, he pressed his mouth to hers once more. For a second she hesitated, and then the awkwardness of that particular moment drilled into her stomach and she just couldn't take it anymore.

"Okay. You really have to stop that." She giggled and placed her hand firmly across his sternum, gently easing him away, except that his strength was so that he wouldn't move.

Qun frowned deeply. "I do not understand. This ritual seems to be one enjoyed by the females of your race. I have witnessed it happen many times. Mr. Spock and Lieutenant Uhura both engage—"

"Yes, I know most of us do," Dorthea rushed, hurrying to cut off his undoubtedly gory stories of the half-Vulcan she pined for and his current boo. "But… it's something shared between two people that… are very special… to each other."

"You are very special to me," he stated blankly, a confused look swirling in his irises.

Dorthea blushed blue again. "Yes, and you are very special to _me_—" He shot forward for another kiss and she squished herself against the wall. "—but not that kind of special."

"What kind of special am I to you?" His head tilted to the side, never moving his arms from where they remained glued next to her ears.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she thought up an answer. "_You_…" she began, prodding him playfully in the chest, "are an even _more_ special. Too special for that."

"Too special," he repeated.

"_Much_ too special."

Silence engulfed them while he considered this, basking—Dorthea hoped—in enough flattery to accept it and move on.

"Who _do_ you feel the particular special for? I will obliterate him."

Eesh. Dorthea flinched inwardly before answering. "Actually…." A lie would definitely be the safest route in this situation for all parties involved. It pained her heart to think how deeply lies weaved into the foundation of her life, when only months ago she'd never once lied in her life. Being with creatures who couldn't read her every intention was taking a hefty toll on her morality. "There is no one who is that kind of special to me. But the instant there is, I'll let you know."

It took a few seconds, but eventually Qun nodded in resignation. And the heavy doors slid open.

"Hey!"

A sudden, icy breeze and Dorthea had been relinquished from Qun's towering figure.

"Uh…." Everything had happened too fast for her brain to comprehend. Somehow, she was staring out at the bridge from under a bright gold blob. A shirt? An arm. Kirk's arm. Why was Kirk's arm wrapped around her head? "Kirk?"

"Don't worry—you're safe. He can't hurt you." Then to someone else, over his shoulder, "Call for Bones! Get a sedative."

"What?" Dorthea's brow furrowed and she shoved herself away from his embrace. "Oh, get off me. Stupid."

Kirk's eyebrow lifted, much in the way of Spock. "Okay. If that's how you Mari thank people for saving your lives… I'll take it."

"Saving my life?" she repeated doubtfully, then rolled her eyes. "You misunderstood."

"Misunder_stood?_ He carried you out of the bridge and trapped you in a jammed lift. How is that a misunderstanding?"

Meanwhile, the subject of their argument was snarling and rambling in Klingon at his attacker. Dorthea glowered at Kirk and walked over to help, leaving the captain to throw up his arms and mutter something about 'women'.

Purple tones dyed Qun's complexion as he struggled with Spock, who had one hand at the Augment's throat and the other restraining the considerably weakened wrists of the super-Klingon.

"Spock. There's been a misunderstanding—let him go."

But his clenched fingers only tightened. Dorthea frowned. "Spock. Let go."

The purple turned blue and Qun's throat made rasping noises as he gasped for air.

"Hey, _knock it off!_" Her hands flew to the one at his neck and attempted to pry it open. "He wasn't attacking me, Spock, you overreacted. Let him _go_."

The failing weakened in persistence and Spock's grip enhanced. "Spock, stop it!" Dorthea pushed her way between them and wrapped her arms around Qun's giant body. "You're killing him!"

Her heart did flip-flops beneath her breast. All she wanted to do at that moment was cry in fear. His eyes darkened, anger sucking her in like a drain, pulling and tugging until her entire body filled with ice. Lips twitched upward in what looked like a smirk, something that both entranced and terrified her. "What are you thinking?" she murmured, the dying body in her arms suddenly very unimportant.

His hand jumped away as if branded. The moment dissipated as fast as it came.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" she yelped, clutching a hacking Qun closer to her much like a mother would to a son. She stroked his head consolingly and whispered words of comfort.

"I…." Spock stared at her with helpless, apologetic eyes. "…apologize. I do not know what came over me." Without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the lift.

Dorthea whipped her head around to glare at Kirk. "What the hell was that?!"

He didn't respond, just gazed critically after his First Officer. After a minute of silence, Dorthea growled and picked up a woozy Qun, slinging his heavy arm over her shoulder and snaking her hand around his waist.

"C'mon," she muttered wearily. "Let's get you to medical bay."

The journey there was unbelievably long, interrupted countless times by the stumbling and blacking out of her accompaniment. When they got down to sickbay, lunch had come and passed.

"Spock," she grumbled to Bones before he could even open his mouth.

Sighing exasperatedly, the doctor immediately went to work with examinations, grumbling about the green-blooded hobgoblin the whole time. "He's out to destroy the damn place," he grumbled.

"No…." Dorthea slowly shook her head, eyes fixed contemplatively on Qun's large form. "You should've seen his face."

Bones waited patiently for her explanation, speaking through the microphone into the MRI machine.

"Qun, be very still, please."

When he looked back, Dorthea's eyes were locked on his, shining with an emotion he couldn't name.

"I've never been so scared in my life." Which was true. When she thought back to Eliza, and the Tarkans, she'd never really been very scared. More angry, determined. There'd been no time for fear, just plotting and planning, and dealing with the physical and mental pain constantly inflicted. But when she looked into Spock's eyes, it was like being lost in space, without the light of the stars. No direction, no air, no gravity. Pulling her body apart at the seams. And anything was possible. He could do anything in that moment. His body was strong, and he was smart, and his emotions ran deeper than anyone else she knew. The world trembled before him. At least, hers did.

"The test is over, Qun," Bones stated softly into the microphone, keeping his attention solely focused on her.

"I am feeling ill, doctor."

"How so?" he responded instantly, snapping into medical mode.

"My abdomen would like to… throw up, if that is the right phrasing."

Bones rushed from the glass cubicle and into the actual testing area, sliding the platform out of the big tube with a routine ease. Dorthea followed on his footsteps, waiting on the other side of the scanner and assisting and pulling it out. A sickly sheen of sweat covered Qun's body (!!!!) and his eyelids fluttered rapidly. Bones stuck the stethoscope around his neck into his ears and held the metal disk to the right of Qun's chest.

"Heart rate accelerated," he noted, glancing up at the heart monitor, which rose rapidly in compliance with his words. Moving the disk downward, he hovered just below his pectoral muscle, then tore the earpieces from his ears, tossing the instrument to the side. "Liquid's filling his lungs," he informed her, running into the cubicle and pulling out an empty syringe.

"So what are you gonna do?" she squeaked, grasping Qun's trembling hand. "Suck it out?"

"Got to," Bones grunted, snapping on a pair of Latex gloves with his teeth.

"What's gonna happen to him? Is he going to be okay?"

Only gracing her with a quick glance, he plunged the needle directly into his chest with nothing but a glint of the metal. He pulled on the plunger and liquid surged upward into the barrel. Glutinous, scarlet. Slopping up on the sides and staining the glass red. Bones' eyes widened to the size of fifty cent pieces.

"It's—"

A gurgling, and a ripping, and rasping, and Qun convulsed onto his side, vomiting the same thick, dark liquid onto Dorthea's front. It spilled over her neck, soaking into the fabric and smearing across her stomach and chest, cascading down onto her legs. Cold, smooth, sickening.

McCoy stared at the front of her uniform. "—blood."

The beeping of the heart monitor sped up, each little note drilling into their eardrums like sirens.

Faster, faster, faster.

Pounding.

Racing.

Frenzied.

And then?

Silence.

* * *

**_A/N: _hey there, long time no see, eh? so, i had a whole story planned out, written in my notebook, and as i wrote this chapter, i pretty much cancelled it all out. because the ending surprised me as much as it surprised you (if it surprised you. doubt it, but i'd like to think it so humor me! ^-^) but it really just came out as i was writing. so. ^^p there's a whole new next section. someday i might make an alternate ending (^^p someday...) but for now this is it. so! thanks for reading, please read and review, and sorry about the long wait! i'll work on it. ^-^ thanks! r&r as always!!!**

**(!!!!) guess what? right at this mark in the above story, those of you who have read from the beginning have read exactly 200 pages on Microsoft Word. big step for me. longest story i've ever written! i just thought it'd be a nice little fun fact to share!!! so, thanks for sticking with me through it all!!! love to all of you, so very much love, taylor-v.**


	22. Gone

Star Trek: 2009  
Everlong, by Taylor Vandenberg  
Chapter 22  
Gone

"You need sleep."

A pair of hands gripped under her shoulders and attempted to pull her to a standing position, but she flopped like a marionette doll right back onto the floor. Something changed—she didn't slip across the tile in a pool of liquid. Someone cleaned.

"I don't…." she responded with a dreamy mumble.

"You're caked in blood and stomach acid."

"That's nice…."

In reality, her body screamed for a shower. The congealed scarlet liquid plugged the tiny little holes in the satiny Starfleet uniform and dried to her skin, spilling across her skin like hardened paint, and when she moved the tiny threads of crusty fluid separated and pulled at the miniscule hairs covering her body. But in her mind, none of that could matter, because she let him die. Right in front of her, she let him die. She was his adopted protector. Some protector. At that moment, his organs lay on a table being poked and prodded out of some sick fascination for dead people. More accurately, dead alien beings. Especially the rare kind. Probably. She doubted they would tell her what they did with his body, whoever "they" were. Like McCoy said. She'd tear their heads off.

"You've been sitting here for twelve hours."

"Uh huh."

She heard a weary sigh from somewhere in front of her.

"It's not going to bring him back. Just sitting there, staring. It won't do anything but give you a huge headache."

It's not that she chose to stare down at the spot where he'd spent his last seconds. It's that she couldn't move. If she moved, then time would pass. Time would pass, and he wouldn't exist anymore. And she would've officially failed him. That's just another person on the list. She figured one more would incapacitate her for the rest of a miserable existence.

"DeVult. Let's go. I've got other things to do than waking you up from catatonia."

"I lost him."

Again with the silence. She found she didn't much like it anymore.

"I killed him."

"What d'you mean, you didn't kill him." McCoy's voice reverberated clearly in the black fog swirling around her brain, impeding her vision.

"I killed him. The cure… Spock… I could've stopped it all."

"You couldn't. You couldn't stop him, he's three times as strong as you. And the cure—"

"I could've hurried it. I didn't do anything." Something strange… warm wetness, in the corners of her eyes. Stinging and building up in her lower lids. Tears. Sadness. Grief. Grief for the lost. He'd been lost. The tears spilling over told her the truth. "I knew it would come too late. I didn't hurry it." Time chugged along, pulling away millimeter by millimeter. She could never stop the universal clock. She could rewind it, fast forward it, skip through it, but never stop it. The world kept turning, the _Enterprise_ kept exploring, she kept living. But he didn't. And yet, his universal clock hadn't stopped. Even in death, time could not be conquered. Flesh decayed, bones turned to dust and ash. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. He would be nothing but ashes and dust. Time ruled all. It consumed _all_. There was no escaping it, no matter how much she tried. And soon, with time would come the pain. She'd had so much pain already, she didn't think she could handle anymore. Surely her body would break into pieces. In any other time, any other place, the epiphany regarding the wheels of Father Time that clicked into her brain with the escape of tiny droplets of water from her eyes would calm her into a state of acceptance and peace. But now, it just caused a blinding agony. An ache of despair for what inevitably headed her way. What else did she deserve? She would suffer through the pain, wishing unending pain on herself, to repay the world for his loss.

Soft muttering whispered against what felt like swollen eardrums, bringing her back to semi-awareness. Suddenly it became clear to her that the black swirling wasn't the trail of misery wafting through her head but a side-effect of the exhaustion caused by her current walking coma state. And the ground was moving, away, far, far away, and the ceiling much closer. Was she floating? Floating upward. Could you float downward? That would be a strange feeling. But this didn't feel like floating. It was more like a boat. When did she board a boat? _Why_ did she board a boat? And, should boats be so shiny and white and so _very _very bright? Sun was yellow. Sun was a pretty yellow. Not white, and certainly not _blue_ or shiny. Just yellow and bright. Ah, now, orange was much better. Much more sun-like. And sea water, spraying her face. Or maybe river, because this didn't taste salty, like her father said it would.

Warmth surged over her body, water, rippling around her kneecaps, submerging her chest, licking the tense muscles straining in her neck. She felt the soap, could smell the vanilla of the bubbles and the jasmine of the shampoo. A soft, warm cloth stroking her skin as softly as the petal of a rose. Like a massage, the hands in her hair rolled the shampoo gently into a foamy white lather, lulling her easily to a light slumber with vibrations of contentment rumbling down from the tips of her ears to her toes. When she opened her eyes, things were much clearer, a lot less swirly, and she could move freely without ripping dry blood off the sensitive skin of her chest and abdomen.

Using her forearms she pushed herself into a sitting form, glaring blearily around at her semi-familiar surroundings.

"Spock?"

The candles had no scent and lit the room in an orange glow. She looked down at her body, dimly remembering a bath of some sorts and wondering if clothes were necessary or taken care of, although she doubted the Vulcan would leave her naked. At least not in his bed. Which she felt incredibly awkward in, by the way. The blankets slid off easily and she stepped onto the carpet with a pair of black sweats and a matching tank top. Mussing her short, spiky twists, she stumbled around his room distractedly, looking for any sign of his presence. She found it the instant that she sat back down on the bed, crossing her legs and resigning herself to waiting for him to find her. The door hissed open and his erect form appeared in the frame.

"You are awake," he stated, stepping over the threshold and allowing the door to slide shut.

"Yeah." A burning feeling swelled in her stomach. Kind of like liquid fire. "Um…." Scratching her ear, she tilted her head and frowned at him. "Did you bathe me?"

Spock blinked once, then headed over to the bed to straighten the sheets. "It was… under the orders of Doctor McCoy."

"Oh." Suddenly very self-conscious, she slid her hands between her knees and blushed silvery blue. "The soap smells nice."

The only response she got was the flipping of comforter corners.

"You… um, wash hair… really well. Very relaxing."

Again, no response but the rustling of blankets.

"So. Nothing barred between us now, is there? I guess all that's left is for you to strip down. You know, I show you mine, you show me yours. That kind of thing."

"Are you well?" He turned around, eyebrows knitted.

"Just dandy. Why do you ask?" She knew she sounded snippy, but she couldn't keep it out of her tone.

"Your attitude suggests I have angered you in some way."

"What, I'm not allowed to be angry at you?"

His entire body swiveled to face her fully. "I do not understand the hostility you feel toward me."

A manic chuckle escaped her lips. "You had to just hold onto his throat. You couldn't just let him go when I told you. You couldn't have just used your Vulcan _brain _and figured out that he wasn't attacking me."

"Are you referring to Qun?" Spock asked, genuine curiosity shining in his chocolaty eyes.

"No. I'm referring to Chekov. He's the one that picked me up and carried me into the turbolift. He's the one you choked to death."

His back straightened instantly, his expression darkening.

"You are suggesting that I am the cause of his death."

"Um, yeah, sure. Suggesting." That liquid in her stomach? It blew up in that exact moment. "Whatever. You killed him."

"You are overreacting."

"He was doing fine! Nothing went wrong until you smashed his airways! And then he puked up a gallon of blood into my _lap!_" Dorthea nearly growled, jumping to her feet. "It's _your fault he's dead!_"

"Your reasoning is blinded by grief," he explained darkly, reaching out for her shoulders, assumedly to guide her back to bed. "Doctor McCoy has advised rest for a total of fourteen additional hours."

Her hand flew out to smack his own away. However, with his Vulcan reflexes, he quickly turned the tables and grasped her wrist tightly in his hand.

"Don't touch me," she snarled.

"I did nothing." His feral tone matched her own. "And your childish behavior is assisting in nothing. Qun's health was already diminished greatly at the time the event took place. Do not place your burdens on me because you cannot accept his death."

"You _suffocated him!_" she hissed. "He might've lasted until the cure got here if you hadn't wrapped your fingers around his throat."

"He was not the safest escort to be kept as it was." Spock snapped.

She'd never heard him snap, and if her ears hadn't just blown her mind, she would've been shocked.

"That wasn't an _attack_," she seethed through her teeth. "You want to talk about overreacting? You were _aiming_ to kill! I saw it in your eyes."

Something in his expression changed. Physically shocked, her back jerked her neck and head upward, popping the bone at the base of her spine.

"Did he kiss you?"

Her breath caught in her throat, so her answer was choked. "W-what?"

"Did the Augment place his lips upon yours?" he expanded, the fire in his irises burning directly through her.

"N… no! Where the hell did you get that idea?"

"You are very oblivious." His other hand gripped her free wrist.

"I'm not oblivious," she countered, struggling uselessly against his strength. "I knew everything."

"You were aware of the way he constantly observed your every movement? Protected you?"

"Completely." Not a lie. But… she'd always felt more like an adopted mother than a… lover… toward him.

"I got that idea, as you so say, from the way he entwined your fingers." As he spoke, Spock's fingers laced themselves between hers. A snarl ripped from her throat. "And the way he lifted you into his arms." He backed her up until she bumped into the wall with a soft _thunk_. "And whisked you into a place where more private matters could be discussed without interruption."

"So observant," she snipped, attempting to control the frantic bumping of her heart against her chest, so angry her body was falling out of rhythm with itself.

Giving her a dark, knowing look, filled with emotion Dorthea faintly recognized, he continued. "And you allowed him to place his lips on yours."

"Allowed is a pretty big assumption."

"Did the Augment force you—"

"Stop calling him the Augment. His name is—_was_—Qun."

"The Augment wanted you," he pressed, fury blazing all over his face. His grip tightened around her wrists until her fingers turned silvery blue.

"Stop _calling _him that! What if I started calling you the half-Vulcan?" she fumed.

"You already do this in your thoughts. Why should it affect me stated out loud?"

Her face heated up to a higher degree, if that was possible. "Get out of my head."

"Then remove yourself from mine."

"I'm not _in _your head!"

"On the contrary, Miss DeVult." He leaned closer, his voice growing quieter. "You occupy my thoughts more often than I would like to admit, something that I assure you is neither convenient nor desired."

"Well, I'm sorry for being _inconvenient_," she sneered.

"Apology accepted."

"Ugh." She jerked her wrists down, but his grip remained unbreakable. "You're pathetic. Don't touch me."

Her knuckles stung and a loud _thunk _resonated from the wall when he slammed her hands into it.

"I will not tolerate insults from an inferior, childish petty officer."

"Is this harassment, _Commander?_"

In an instant he released her, allowing the blood to flow away from her hands. Subconsciously rubbing her wrists—where blue splotches already stained her skin—she stepped away from the wall and forced him back.

"Get out of my way," she instructed.

"Is that an order, officer?" His eyebrow perked, hands clasped behind his ramrod straight back.

"Yes," she confirmed. "And so is this: you will never speak of him again, or I will kill you myself."

Without a second glance she exited the room, leaving him to contemplate the seriousness of her words.

She didn't exactly know where her feet were taking her. They moved of their own accord, dragging her through the corridors of the _Enterprise_, looking not for something or someone, just… for time. Maybe she could find it and stop it. Or get lost in it. The grief would be lost as well. It worsens in time, rather than getting better. She didn't feel better yet, and time's wheels turned it seemed faster when she wanted it to slow.

"DeVult?"

The suede texture of the voice coaxed her into consciousness regarding her location. She blinked furiously and focused on the well-built body in front of her. Red boxing gloves adorned his hands, those familiar blue sweats hanging loosely on familiar defined hips. A big black punching bag swayed before him after an undoubtedly harsh beating. She'd wandered into the training room.

"Kir—ah, Captain," she corrected herself. "I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"Oh, no, it's fine." He grinned and gave the bag a small, playful punch. "Just goin' a few rounds with Muhammad over here." He dealt another light blow to the leather, twisting it around to display a wrinkled black and white photograph of a twentieth century boxer taped securely to the black synthetic fabric. "Helps with the stress."

"Stress, huh?" she chuckled, rubbing her eyes roughly with the heels of her palms. "Sounds familiar."

"You wanna take a couple throws?" Kirk pulled off the bulky gloves and held them out to her. "You look like you could use it."

Staring warily at the offering, she shook her head in denial. "Nah, you really don't want me hitting anything."

He cocked a smooth half-smile at her. "What, are you concealing a promising boxing talent along with that hidden poker expertise?"

"Oh, that's most definitely it." Dorthea shook her head once more and leaned against the wall. "Physical activity isn't my strongest point."

With a roll of his eyes, Kirk slapped the pair of gloves into her hands. "Just take a swing. It'll help."

"Ah… I don't think—"

"That's an order, officer."

They locked eyes in a fierce battle of wills lasting less than five seconds. Dorthea sighed in defeat and slid the sweaty, sticky mitts over her tiny hands. "Right away, Captain." She stood away from the wall, shaking her wrists to get the feel of the weight like she'd seen others do before. The Captain revolved around her and gently gripped her bare biceps, placing her directly in front of the bag.

"Are you right-handed or left?"

"Uh, right."

"Okay, now. You want to stand with your left foot forward and your front shoulder forward. It gives your punch more power. And, you want to hit with the flat part of your fist—not your knuckles." He smiled at her via the mirror opposing them, touched her waist in encouragement, and backed away. "You got a minute. Ready—" He tossed the white towel sitting on a nearby chair over his neck and grabbed the digital watch hidden under it. "Set—" A couple beeps later and his watch was set. "Go!"

Her weight automatically shifted to her back leg, hands lifted halfheartedly to her chin. "So—what do I do?"

Kirk's laughter cajoled a reluctant grin onto her face. "You hit it!" he snickered. "In the next… fifty-one seconds!"

"Okay. Um…." She hopped uncertainly from one foot to the other. "So, you won't make fun of me, right?"

"I can't make any promises," he laughed, squeezing his water bottle and spraying a thick stream of water into his mouth and all over his face.

Tilting her head to the side, she threw the first punch, slamming her fist against the bag—something she really thought would be a lot softer. A visible wince sent Kirk into gales of laughter. Determined to make him eat that, she sent another blow, swinging the bag in a powerful sway away from her fist. And then another. And another. And another.

How _dare_ he leave her like that. _Punch_. How could he give up so goddam quickly. _Smack. _He'd been so strong. _Slam._ How dare he let himself go. If he'd just held out a little bit longer, fought Spock just a little bit harder…. _Slam, smack._ And _how_ could Spock touch him? Attack him? Wrap those long, Vulcan fingers around his throat.

Bastards. They both turned on her. Left her in the dust. Did what they _knew_ she wanted least. Bastards. _Slam_.

"Hey."

Left her. He left her. Who else would leave her? She was counting them down on a list. _Slam_.

"DeVult. You're going to mess up your hands."

They had no right. They just completely disregarded her. Like she didn't even exist. Might as well be dead. _Thump, smack._

_He_ was. _Slam_. A searing pain shot up her wrist and Dorthea doubled over, clenching her jaw tight and squishing her wrist between her kneecaps.

"Dammit." Kirk's voice suddenly at her ear, hot breath on the cartilage, he turned her around to face him and pulled her wrist free. "I told you you'd get hurt if you didn't take it easy."

"Those… bastards," she panted, grimacing in pain. She noticed the tear tracks drying salt on her cheeks as his breath crossed her face. "How could they do this to me?"

Dropping her wrist, Kirk pulled the half-Mari into a tight embrace. "I know," he consoled. "I know…."

Sobs ripped through her chest, as they had been since the fourth punch, undetected in her distraction.

"Bring him back." Her body shook in his hold, throwing her arms around his torso and hugging him tighter to her body. "Please, bring him back…. I can't lose someone else... Please bring him back. Please."

"He can't come back." Kirk stroked her head and tilted her chin up to meet her eyes. "He's gone. You have to accept that."

Her body trembled, on the verge of breaking into pieces, and then snapped, falling helplessly into Kirk's arms.

* * *

**A/N: thanks so much for reading, can't believe i got two updates up in three days. ^^p go Christmas vacation!!! lol. as always, read and review, and thanks so much for reading. ^-^ hearts, taylor-v**


	23. Goodbye, Farewell

To all my readers….

After a year without updates, I have some good, and some bad, news for you. But first, I'm going to thank you all for sticking by me, reading, reviewing, and generally making writing this worthwhile. You guys boost my ego, float my boat, rock my world. Thank you so much for spending your valuable time on my unworthy fantasies. It is so much appreciated.

Now, onto the good and bad of it. Bad first.

As of right now, I am closing up _Everlong_ indefinitely. I went back the other day and read through it all, and ended up despising myself for posting it online. Unfortunately, that's how I end up feeling about most of my work. Still, I'm not quite done with Dorthea, I don't think, and definitely not done playing with the poor, defenseless crew and bending them to my every whim. (Somewhere in the galaxy, Kirk is comatose, Bones is cursing about crazy fangirls, and Spock is running around trying to keep the ship in order while attempting to disappear out of my reach.) This brings me to the good news. Maybe. Depending on how you look on it.

Seeing as Dorthea and her sister are still buzzing around indignantly in my head, (_Dorthea_: FINISH MY STORY, DAMMIT! _Eliza_: Ugh. You suck. Just letting us sit here? What the hell kind of writer are you? _Me:_ *on hands and knees* I'm so sorry… please, forgive me!) I can't just let them go on with no resolution. So. Now in my stock of unfinished stories, I have added a sort of rewrite. _Everlong Revised_. I would've preferred _Everlong 2.0_, but they took out the . in the title and it said _Everlong 20_ and that made no sense. It will essentially follow the same plot, but with a couple major changes. If you're interested, please, be my guest and go ahead and read that. I can't promise that I'll finish it (I think I have a complex…), but I definitely like this version much more.

While I can hope that you'll all forgive me (crawls over and begs for forgiveness while Dorthea and Eliza scoff) and give this new version a try, all I can do now is say:

You guys are awesome. Thanks again. Have fun. Enjoy literature. And….

Live long and prosper.

Taylor-V out.


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